


All Roads Lead to Rome

by nikkiRA



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M, Occasional swearing, pjo big bang 2014, vague sex scenes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 15:00:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 35,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2154897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikkiRA/pseuds/nikkiRA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the PJO Big Bang Challenge for 2014.</p><p>Percabeth AU. At the end of the Last Olympian, Percy, high off of victory, accepts Zeus' offer of immortality while Annabeth joins Lady Artemis and her Hunters. Immorality isn't all it's cracked up to be, and the two struggle with the feelings they still have for each other, as well as new feelings of anger, betrayal, and the feeling of being left behind. Spanning across many years, Annabeth struggles with her feelings for Percy and her loyalty to Lady Artemis, while Percy begins to understand that making such drastic life decisions at 16 has more consequences than he had believed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Roads Lead to Rome

“PERCY JACKSON!”

He walks forward and bows to the King of the Gods, before kneeling at the feet of the god beside him. He is his father – Poseidon, god of the sea.

“Rise, my son,” the sea god commands and the boy, only sixteen, rises to his feet shakily. Behind him, his friends wait with baited breath.

The sea god speaks once again. “A great hero must be rewarded. Is there anyone here who would deny that my son is deserving?”

Silence descends upon the room. Zeus finally breaks the silence. “The Council agrees. Percy Jackson, you will have one gift from the gods.”

The boy is stunned as the possibilities reach out before him, an endless line. “Any gift?” His voice is unbelieving as if any minute now he is expecting the room full of gods to yell ‘GOTCHA!’

Instead, Zeus only nods. “I know what you will ask. The greatest gift of all. Yes, if you want it, it shall be yours. The gods have not bestowed this gift on a mortal hero in many centuries, but, Perseus Jackson – if you wish it – you shall be made a god. Immortal. Undying. You shall serve as your father’s lieutenant for all time.”

“Um... a god?” His voice is awed and Zeus cannot help but roll his eyes, a habit picked up after three thousand years of watching mortals.

“A dimwitted god, apparently. But yes. With the consensus of the entire Council, I can make you immortal. Then I will have to put up with you forever.”

“Hmm,” comes a sound from further back. Ares, the god of war. “That means I can smash him to a pulp as often as I want, and he’ll just keep coming back for more. I like this idea.”

“I approve as well.” This time, the voice comes from a woman with startling gray eyes whom the boy knows well. Athena, goddess of wisdom, also gives her approval.

The Council all gives their approval and then they stare at the boy in front of them. He’s quiet and stares at the ground.

Behind him, a girl with the same eyes as the goddess of wisdom has a hand clamped over her mouth. Her eyes are wide and brimming with tears. The boy turns his head as if to look at her, but then he shakes his head and says, quickly, “I accept. I accept your gift. Thank you kindly, Lord Zeus. Thank you to all the Council.”

The girl makes a funny noise that he doesn’t hear.

*

Later, the girl seeks out Lady Artemis.

For a goddess she looks young, but the girl isn’t fooled. She has a calm demeanour about her as she surveys the girl before her and there is knowledge behind her eyes, as if she knows why she’s here. She looks strong, and she is – she is the leader of the Hunters.

“Lady,” she says, kneeling before her. Artemis studies her.

“A great honour has been bestowed upon you. You must be feeling well right now.”

Her eyes drop to the floor and the goddess nods as if this confirms her thoughts. “How may I help you, Annabeth?”

“I... I wish to join the Hunters, my lady.”

Artemis scrutinizes the girl in front of her. Her mouth is a firm line. “Has this anything to do with the recent addition to the gods?”

The girl blushes. “I wish to pledge myself to you, lady. I want to join the Hunters. I wish to join your ranks. I want... I want to feel in control. I wish to swear off men. I wish to join your ranks.”

“I worry about your intentions, Annabeth.”

“My intentions are pure.”

“Do you know the oath?”

The girl clears her throat and begins. “I pledge myself to the goddess Artemis. I turn my back on the company of men, accept eternal maidenhood, and join the Hunt.”

The goddess studies her. The girl holds her breath as she stares at the ground.

“Are you sure about this, Annabeth? There is no going back.”

She meets the goddess’s eyes. “I’m sure, my lady.”

“Then I accept your pledge.”

*

“Annabeth!”

It’s the boy, Percy Jackson, and she looks around for a place to hide but there’s nowhere. So instead she turns around to face him with a huge smile plastered on her face.

“Hi, Seaweed Brain.” He sweeps her up into a hug and even though she’s sworn off this kind of stuff she hugs him back. It’s probably the last time she’s ever going to be able to.

“Congratulations, Annabeth. I’m so happy for you. You get to redesign Olympus!”

She shakes her head. “I’m absolutely terrified.”

“Nah, you’ll do amazing. I know you will.”

She blushes and looks down. “And look at you. You’re a... a god.” Her voice cracks on the word but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Well, not yet. After the party, I guess. I don’t really know how they do it. I hope it’s not like in the old stories, where I have to be shoved into a fireplace for three days.”

“Congratulations,” she says, but she doesn’t mean it.

Tension suddenly descends upon the pair and she realizes he still has his arms around her. She wrenches away.

“Annabeth... I know... I know this isn’t what we thought was going to happen. But I... I couldn’t turn it down. I’ll be a _god –”_

She holds up her hand to cut him off. “Don’t. I’m happy for you, Percy. I really am.”

“Why don’t I believe that?”

His hand comes up, as if to brush her hair away, but she steps out of reach.

“Well believe it.”

“You know... I mean, this doesn’t mean... we don’t have to stop seeing each other, Annabeth. You’re still my best friend.”

 _Then why did you leave me?_ She thinks, and she guesses now’s as good a time as ever to tell him the news.

“I joined the Hunters, Percy.”

His mouth drops open, as if _this_ is news of the day. “You... you what?”

“Joined the Hunters.”

“Like... of Artemis?”

“No, of Aphrodite. Of course, Seaweed Brain.” This name is usually used teasingly but her voice is genuinely angry.

“But... Olympus!”

“Lady Artemis is letting me finish redesigning before I join full time, but I’ve given her my pledge.”

“Annabeth...” he looks hurt, almost. “Why?”

“Why not? I’m a good fighter. I get to be with Thalia. And right now, a lifetime without men is looking pretty good.”

“Annabeth,” his voice drops to a whisper. “If this has to do with me –“

“Believe it or not, Percy, not everything is about you.”

“Don’t do this,” he pleads. She shrugs, attempting to be nonchalant and failing.

“It’s already done.”

“You’re making a mistake.”

Her eyes glare daggers at him and she flares up, using anger to mask the fact that she desperately wants to break down into tears.

“How would you know? Even if I am, it isn’t your decision.”

“Think of what you’re throwing away.”

“What? What am I throwing away? What did you expect, Percy? Did you expect me to be your personal call girl for the rest of my life? To drop everything to be at your total beck and call until I die and you can find someone else?”

He blushes. “That’s not what –”

“Save it. I don’t care. You do what you want, Percy. You be a god. There’s no going back now – you’ve accepted the gift. And I can’t go back, either. I’m a Hunter. Those are our roles and I’m not supposed to have anything to do with you from now on and maybe that’s for the better.”

She goes to walk away but he grabs her arm. “You can’t just walk away from us. Annabeth –”

“There is no _us_ to walk away from. Clearly there never was.”

“Annabeth –”

But she’s walking away. She had to rebuild Mount Olympus. She had to finish high school. She had to join her ranks in the Hunters of Artemis.

And she needed, more than anything, to forget about the stupid boy she was leaving behind.

She finally began to cry.

  **I.**

“No! Malcolm! That’s not what I said!”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, I am 100% positive that it isn’t.”

This is probably the thirtieth time they’ve had this argument in two years. Malcolm never seems to remember her commands right. She doesn’t even consider that maybe she’s just not giving them properly.

Malcolm stops arguing. He’s learned that that’s the best strategy whenever Annabeth refuses to admit that she’s wrong, which is often. They used to argue frequently, because as her second in command Malcolm played a major role in the rebuilding of Olympus. He knew it was Annabeth’s job and he let her make most of the decisions, but sometimes he had to step in because, no, Annabeth, that’s an awful idea. One night they got into such a huge fight over pillars that Athena intervened, leaving them feeling like six year olds arguing over a toy until Mommy stepped in. After that they stayed much more civil, but there were still problems like this, where Annabeth would change her mind and then swear that she had been saying that the entire time. Malcolm tries his best not to blame her. For the past two years Annabeth has been stressed beyond belief, to the point where he’s surprised she hasn’t pulled out all her hair. Rebuilding Olympus was tough. High school was even tougher. Add the two together and you got a very stressed out Annabeth Chase.

In two years Malcolm had gone through one last growth spurt and had decided he looked much more sophisticated with a beard (he didn’t). Next to him, Annabeth hadn’t changed at all. She hadn’t technically joined the Hunters yet, but Artemis had changed her already, freezing her so she still had the look of a 16 year old girl.

“Are you two fighting again? Do I have to go tell your mother?”

Speaking of 16 year olds.

Malcolm had used to really like Percy Jackson when he was a mortal. And it wasn’t that Percy had changed drastically as a god. He wasn’t pompous or arrogant or showed off in front of them, and other than the occasional joke about giving him offerings at dinner, he remained largely the same person. But Malcolm wasn’t stupid, and he knew that Percy’s immortality was a large part of Annabeth’s. Annabeth is his sister, and in the past two years they had gotten closer than ever, close enough that he could recognize the flicker of anger, annoyance, and that tiny little sliver of pain that still hasn’t gone away in her eyes every time Percy shows up.  Family first.

“Yeah, I’m sure she’d be real thrilled to see you, Jackson.”

Percy always seems hesitant around him, possibly because Malcolm always tends to glare at him whenever he’s around. Things are 100 times better now, though, then they were two years ago, when Percy would show up and Annabeth would freeze, snapping at everyone and making the whole room so uncomfortable that eventually Percy would leave. Two years together had made them much more tolerable of each other, although they were nowhere close to where they had been before. They would never be best friends again, and Malcolm knew they had been more than that. He was usually the one who walked in on their moments, long before either of them would admit that they felt anything other than mutual feelings of friendship towards the other.

Annabeth looks up and smiles, although her eyes never change expression. Once again he’s astounded at how strong Annabeth can be. He can remember one time, shortly after they started, when Annabeth had started crying, spurred on by seemingly nothing. He had hugged her and she got his shoulder wet and that was around the time he started to hate Percy Jackson.

She hasn’t cried since. At least not in front of him.

“Hi Percy. No, it’s fine. Malcolm just misunderstood something I said.”

He doesn’t even go anywhere near that. When Percy’s around Malcolm is always on Team Annabeth.

“That looks really good. Good work, Annabeth.” Malcolm almost rolls his eyes. _What the hell do you know about architecture, Jackson?_ But he keeps his mouth shut. They weren’t even close to finishing, so he had no idea how much longer he would have to put up with Percy. Easier on everyone if they could all be civil to each other.

“Thanks. Do you think it’s too… large?”

This time Malcolm does roll his eyes. “Annabeth, you’re designing a throne room for gods who can grow to like, fifty feet. It’s fine. It’s probably not big enough.”

“Gods, what if it’s not big enough?”

He had always admired Annabeth for always being so sure of herself, but he guesses he can’t really blame her for being slightly less confident when it involved 3000 year old gods who were known to vaporize people on the spot.

“It’s fine, honestly. Trust me.” And then, because he can’t resist getting in a jab whenever possible, he says, “Do you think the gods are compensating for something, by having everything so big? What do you think, Jackson?”

To the untrained eye it would seem like Annabeth hadn’t even heard, but Malcolm has been beside her so often that he can tell she’s trying not to smile. For his part, Percy laughs. “I dunno. I haven’t been able to master the whole, change your appearance thing. Once I tried to make my feet smaller, just testing out, y’know, but I ended up making my nose three times bigger. Apparently it doesn’t come naturally.”

Annabeth laughs, a fake laugh that no one pretends to believe. Malcolm is always caught off guard by how protective he gets over her when Percy is here.

“I would have liked to see that.”

Percy nods. Malcolm doesn’t know him well enough to understand the look in his eyes. He bets Annabeth could, if she ever looked him in the eye.

“Well, I’ll uh, see you later. Are you guys staying up here tonight, or going back down to Camp?” On nights when they worked late they bunked in a little house Annabeth had built. It was less of a house and more of a room split in half so they each had their privacy, but it was good enough when it was three in the morning and Malcolm never wants to see another design ever.

“Don’t know yet. Depends on how much we get done.”

He supresses a groan. He hated sleeping on Olympus. It never seemed to quiet down and there was always some sort of party being thrown by nymphs. But Annabeth is in charge.

Percy leaves and he turns to Annabeth. “Do I have to tell mother,” he says, impersonating Percy rudely and acting like an angry school boy. Annabeth tries not to smile and fails. “Don’t be mean!” She says, but it’s half hearted, as if part of her wishes she could make fun of him as well.

“My apologies. Although I would have loved to see his nose. I bet he looked awful.”

Annabeth smiles at him for half a moment before saying, “Right, so as I was saying, that’s totally not what I said.”

“It totally was, but we can pretend it wasn’t if it makes you feel better.”

“It would.”

“You’re the boss, boss.”

*

Four and a half years later and Annabeth can almost taste it.

She’s graduated high school (with honours, of course – although a major part of that was Chiron somehow being able to locate her textbooks in Ancient Greek), and she was almost done with her second major battle, Olympus. She was pleased with how it was turning out. She forced herself to be pleased, because if she wanted she could find some fault in every single thing and convince herself to stay another four and a half years.

She tells herself she’s not being avoidant; she’s being a perfectionist.

Next to her Malcolm jerks, waking up from the nap he had apparently decided to take on his hand. She pretends not to notice the drool. She ignores the little girl in her head, _you drool when you sleep._

When she’s done, when she’s gone, she won’t think of him this much. She’s sure of it.

“Morning.”

“Annabeth, it’s –” he checks his watch – “quarter to four. Go to sleep. Let’s both go to sleep. You’re running yourself into the ground.”

“Nonsense. I’m completely in control.”

“You’re going to kill yourself.”

“I’m a _Hunter,_ Malcolm. I can’t die of natural causes anymore.”

“Fine, then _I’m_ going to kill you.”

“We’re almost done. I wager… three months at the most. Aren’t you excited?”

“I’m excited to finally get a full night’s sleep after five years.”

“I mean it! We built this, and it’s almost finished, doesn’t that excite you?”

“Well, yeah, but…”

“But what? Are you still upset about that pillar?”

“No! Would you shut up about that damn pillar? It’s been four years!”

“Then what?”

He shrugs, suddenly looking a little uncomfortable. “I’m gonna miss you. You leave after this, and who knows when I’m gonna see you again, because of the whole, you know, having a penis thing.”

She looks taken aback. “I’ll visit.”

“Yeah, but I’ve spent the last almost five years poring over papers with you and hearing you snore every night because master architect Annabeth Chase apparently can’t build a thick enough wall.”

“I don’t snore!”

“Tell it to Hypnos, I searched him out a couple of times begging him for help.”

She shakes her head before reaching out and grabbing his hand. “I’ll miss you too, Malcolm. And I will visit. You’re my brother.”

“Yeah, that’s the part they won’t like too much.”

“What, are you scared of a bunch of teenage girls?”

“If they’re anything like you? Terrified.”

She hugs him, thinking about where she’d be if she didn’t have Malcolm to help her. The rest of her siblings had helped a lot, too, but Malcolm was the one who was with her every day, and he was probably the only one who would have been able to put up with her.

But she isn’t done yet.

“All right, back to work.”

Malcolm grabs her pencil and throws it across the room. She is just about to yell at him when he claps a hand over her mouth. “No, I don’t want to hear it, I don’t care, it’s four in the morning, we are going to sleep, most importantly, _you_ are going to sleep.”

“Malcolm –”

He glares at her. It’s quite an impressive glare. Normally Annabeth can out glare anyone, especially when it came to her work, but this time she has to give the gold trophy to Malcolm, because damn, he’s scaring her right now.

“Argue with me, I dare you.”

She has to admit defeat. Malcolm has grown to just over six feet and she knows without a doubt he could throw her over his shoulder and carry her to bed if he had to. She has a conflicting feeling of annoyance inside of her, because all she wants is to keep working, but on the other hand she is completely aware that if it hadn’t been for Malcolm she probably would have died of exhaustion years ago, Hunter or no.

“Fine. I’ll go to bed. But we’re getting up no later than eight!”

“Nice try. You are sleeping until at _least_ eleven.”

“There is no way that is happening.”

“Annabeth. They are gods. They are immortal. For that matter, so are you. We are not on a deadline. You’re allowed to slow down.”

There’s a major part of her that wants to disagree. But on the other hand, there’s also another part of her, small but undoubtedly present, who knows that if she finishes, if she has no reason to stay on Olympus anymore, then that’s it. She will never see him again. And she still kind of hates him, or at least tries to convince herself that she does (could she ever really hate him? Probably not), but she knows that she would rather be angry on Olympus with him than be angry somewhere else without him. And maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if she could see him sometimes but she knows that’s not how it works, and that even on the occasions she could see him things would never be the same. There’s a constant battle within her about whether she wants to kiss Percy Jackson or punch him, and even though she constantly fights against them, she still appreciates the fact that she could, if she wanted to. That he would be close enough.

But still.

“Ten.”

Malcolm looks like he’s about to fight but all he says is, “Fine. Ten.”

She kisses his cheek. She has to stand on her tiptoes to reach. He had finally ditched the beard about a year and a half ago, thank the gods. He smiles at her briefly before pointing towards the cabin they had built, and she marches off, feeling like a petulant child sent to her room. But Annabeth passes out as soon as her head hits the pillow, and much to her dismay she sleeps in until noon the next day.

She berates Malcolm for almost an hour when she wakes up but he never once regrets it.

*

There’s a party. Annabeth is not having a good time.

Malcolm had disappeared with one of the Demeter girls ages ago. Since then she had been sitting on the sidelines trying to find something Dionysus hadn’t spiked yet. So far she’s been unsuccessful, judging from the slight buzzing in her head and the fact that everything is blurry.

Zeus and Poseidon have been arguing for twenty minutes. Aphrodite and Ares have both mysteriously disappeared, and Hephaestus is sitting in the corner looking a mix of annoyed and expectant. When he sees her looking he winks at her. She waves back. Hephaestus had been instrumental in her work, and she would have gotten absolutely no where without him and some of the members of his cabin. Apollo and a bunch of his children are having archery practice, and so far only one satyr had been hit.

Out of the corner of her eye she sees him. She reaches for another drink and gulps it down quickly enough that she doesn’t feel the burning until she’s almost done.

“Hi Annabeth.”

“Hi.”

“Good work. You did amazing. This is… really impressive.”

She shrugs. Half of her doesn’t speak because she is never truly satisfied with her work, and half of it is because her throat is _really burning._

“I mean it. This is incredible. I’m so proud of you.”

She desperately wants to tell him that he doesn’t have any right to feel proud of her, but this is supposed to be a celebration and she doesn’t want to ruin it.

“Thanks,” is what she says instead. The word struggles a bit to leave her mouth.

After an awkward silence, Percy says, “Aren’t you a little young to be drinking?” This is something Percy likes to joke about, the fact that they both look 16. The truth is they are both 21, now. The more important truth is that the gods don’t give a shit.

“You know that was never funny.”

Percy looks momentarily hurt, but recovers before Annabeth can feel guilty.

“Are you happy with it?”

“Yes.”

“Are you really?”

Sometimes Annabeth forgets that Percy still knows her better than almost anyone.

“I have to be. If I look for problems I will find them and then I’ll never be able to leave.”

“Is that really a bad thing?”

For the first time in a while she looks him in the eyes. She’s taken back at the emotion in them.

“I can’t stay forever.”

“Why?”

“Because I have to join the Hunters.”

“Why?”

“Are you a four year old?”

“I mean it, Annabeth. Why did you join the Hunters?” She’s been avoiding the question, even from herself.

“I had always thought of it. It’s always been in the back of my mind.”

“But why now?”

“Why not? I was running out of time. It felt… right.”

She will not give Percy Jackson the satisfaction.

“Are you happy?”

That is a question she had never really considered. “Of course I am. I got to redesign Olympus. I get to spend the rest of my life and more with Thalia. We saved Olympus. We saved the world, actually. We’re heroes. I’m happy.”

She can tell he doesn’t believe her.

Somehow they’ve started walking. The Stoll brothers are performing some kind of strip tease for a bunch of nymphs and most of the Aphrodite cabin. A thong flies past her head and she hears catcalls and laughter.

“So when do you leave?”

“Soon. I have to get my things in order. Say goodbye to my dad, and everyone. I won’t get to see them. Not much, at least.”

“And then what?”

She shrugs. “Whatever Lady Artemis wants from me.”

Percy is quiet for a few steps. “What does this mean?”

“What does what mean?”

“What does _this_ mean? When am I going to be able to see you? Will I ever? What does this mean for us?”

This question makes her angry. Really, furiously angry.

“What is it with you and _us?_ What do you mean _us?_ There is no us. If there ever was, there isn’t now.”

He stops. He blinks at her. He looks like he just got slapped.

“You’re still mad at me.”

“No, I’m not.”

“I don’t believe you.”

 _That’s because it’s not true._ She resists the urge to spit that at him. “Can we not talk about this? This is supposed to be a party. We should be partying.”

“Okay. Fine. You’re right, as usual. We’re here to celebrate you and your work.” He places a hand on a statue they had been walking past. “Now this. This is a great statue. Good job.”

She almost wants to laugh. “Don’t be obnoxious, Seaweed Brain.” She freezes. She hasn’t called him that in years.

“Annabeth…”

“We should go back to the party.”

“Annabeth.”

She’s starting to feel panicked. “Come on. People will be wondering where we went.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

She stops. Breathes in. “Well that’s too fucking bad for you.”

“How long are you going to stay angry at me?”

She doesn’t answer, just starts walking away.

“I am allowed to miss you.”

“No, you’re not.”

“You’re being unreasonable.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Annabeth!” He grabs her by the arm and turns her around. “Can you please talk to me?”

“Percy, why can’t you understand that _I don’t want to.”_

“Please. I miss you.”

“I’ve been here the whole time.”

“No. You haven’t. Not really.”

She slumps, almost. She wants to sit down. She should have put more benches around here.

“What do you want from me?”

“I want to be the way we used to be. I want us to be friends again.”

“That can’t happen anymore. You made sure of that.”

“Don’t put this all on me, Annabeth.”

“Look, Percy. We can’t be like we were. We can’t go back to that. You decided it wasn’t good enough.”

“Why are you so hell bent on blaming me? You’re the one who joined the group that hates men. You’re the one who’s making it so I can never see you. That’s on you.”

“Regardless, okay? It doesn’t matter. It’s done, now. It’s gone. We’ve both made our choices. It’s time to live with them.”

“I didn’t choose this.”

“Well you don’t really have a choice. Neither do I. Suck it up.”

“The Hunters made you mean. Have you already gotten a head start on the man hating?”

“No. Just Percy hating.”

She makes the mistake of looking him in those stupid green eyes of his. The hurt she sees in them starts to guilt her anger away.

“I’m sorry. I don’t hate you, Percy. But you have to understand that everything has changed now. Maybe that’s my fault as much as yours, but you can’t deny that you started it.”

“I wasn’t the one who decided we wouldn’t get to see each other.”

“What did you think being a god meant?”

“I would still be able to see you.”

“You can’t expect me to hang around all the time. That’s not fair to me. It’s not fair to expect me to put my life on hold and hang around in case you decide to show up.”

“That’s not what I wanted from you! That’s never what I wanted from you.”

“Then what did you want from me? What _do_ you want from me?”

“I’ve only ever wanted you the way you are. I never wanted the Annabeth who waits around. I wanted the Annabeth who was able to completely rebuild Olympus in 5 years. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. How could I ever expect you to put your life on hold?”

Annabeth is confused and her head hurts. She just wants to leave and run away, but she also wants to stay on Olympus forever, she wants to redesign her redesign and gods, she’s still drunk, too.

“Percy. I can’t do this. Everything is all muddled and confused. Let’s just go back to the party.”

“I don’t want to. I don’t want to share you.”

“ _Share_ me? I’m not a piece of cake, Percy.”

“I know. I know, I know, I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant, that came out wrong. I just want to spend time with you. Once. For the last time, apparently.”

Annabeth sighs. Admits defeat. Tries to pretend she isn’t happy about it.

“Fine. But let’s go somewhere else. Somewhere I can sit, maybe.”

“You’re a lightweight.”

“I’m not a lightweight. I just want to sit down.”

“Lightweight.”

“Percy!” But to her dismay she grins. Percy looks like he just won a lot of money.

“I made you smile.”

“No you didn’t.”

“Yes I did!” He laughs in triumph. “I made you _smiiiiile,”_ he singsongs at her.

“You’re insufferable.”

“What’s the longest word in the English dictionary?”

"Um." She tries to find the answer, but for some reason all she can think of is supercalifragilisticexpialidocisous. 

“Smiles.” Percy doesn’t wait for her to answer. “Because there’s a mile between each ‘s’.”

She stares at him. She hadn’t even realized it was a joke. Gods, she had been working for too long.

“That was awful.”

“It was funny!”

“It was _not.”_

“Sure it was. You just don’t have a sense of humour anymore.”

“Sure I do, but I only laugh at funny jokes.”

“Right. You children of Athena only laugh at _sophisticated_ jokes.”

She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “You’re an idiot. And still not funny.”

They stop and sit down in a courtyard. Percy sits down on a bench and looks around. “This is nice. Very aesthetically pleasing. I dig it.”

“You dig it.”

“I dig it.”

“When did you become a 90s surfer guy?”

He laughs and adopts what she can only describe as a stoner face. “Duuuude.” She laughs. “See? It’s not so bad, being around me.”

Annabeth thinks that maybe letting herself enjoy Percy’s company again wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. “Maybe not.”

“I guess that’s the best I’m gonna get, huh?”

She smiles sweetly at him. Percy knows her well enough to understand the sarcasm it holds.

Silence falls over them again, but this time it isn’t horribly awkward. It’s comfortable, really. She sits down next to him and stops trying so hard not to touch him.

“So what’s it like? Being a god?”

He shrugs. “Uh. So far it’s not so different. I mean, I’m more powerful, which is a plus, but I have to deal with stupid Triton much more, which is not so much. I think it won’t start seeming different until I’m like, 50 or something. When things should be changing but aren’t.”

“Things will have supposed to have changed long before 50, Percy.”

“Well what about you? What does being immortal feel like to you?”

She thinks about it. “I guess I’m like you. It doesn’t really feel like anything yet. I only really ever notice it when I’m with Malcolm.”

“And The Beard?”

She laughs. “Yes, the awful Beard. I think it’s because he’s the one who’s changed the most, to me. Connor and Travis are still doing strip shows, you look the same, but Malcolm is the one I’m with all the time and it’s like… it’s like I’m watching him grow up.”

“Annabeth. Be honest. Did you join the Hunters because of me?”

“No. Honestly. I had been thinking about it for a while. Maybe you made me think more seriously about it, but it’s something I had had on my mind. No offense, Percy, but you don’t have that much power over me.”

He nods. “I just… wanted to make sure you didn’t do something you’re going to end up regretting.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Percy.”

“Annabeth. Truce. Remember?”

She breathes, trying to remember that no matter how angry she may be, Percy is not her enemy.

“Yeah. I’m sorry.”

Percy spreads out the tiniest bit so their knees are touching. She doesn’t move away. She can’t remember the last time she willingly touched Percy.

“Do you remember the first time we met? And you told me I drooled in my sleep?”

She smiles the littlest bit. “Yeah.”

“And that time me, you and Grover –”

“Percy. I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to go down memory lane. You have to let it go.”

He’s silent for a while. “I’m really gonna miss you.”

“I know. Me too, Percy, honestly.”

He moves closer so their sides are pressed together. She lets herself relax, slumps a little. Percy reaches for her hand, and for some reason she lets him take it.

“I’m still your friend. I’ll always think of you as my friend, even if I can never see you. I want you to remember that, even during the times you hate me.”

Annabeth very rarely cries, and she isn’t going to now, not in front of Percy. She’s stupid, she’s so stupid. She should have left it alone. She should have left Olympus hating him.

She looks at him, then, and boy was that a bad idea. He’s smiling at her, always smiling, but his eyes are sad. She can barely meet his eyes.

She wants to kiss him.

She had spent so long hating him that she had almost forgotten how she used to feel about him (used to, she tries desperately to convince herself). She tries to find those feelings again, those feelings of hating Percy, but the truth is she never hated Percy, and she doubts she ever could.

He wants to kiss her, she can tell, because she can read Percy. When she was younger she had fought her hardest against liking Percy in that way, because she didn’t want to complicate things and besides, she was determined not to be that girl, the side kick heroine whose job it is to fall in love with the hero. Saving the world is a group effort, no matter what the movies tell you. She was more than a love interest. She’s Annabeth fucking Chase.

 _Annabeth fucking Chase,_ she thinks to herself.

But it hadn’t worked, had it? Because she had fallen for Percy, and he had fallen for her. She knows it, everyone does. She isn’t 16 anymore (not really), she’s done with the whole high school crush aspect of the whole thing. She had fallen for Percy and they had saved the world. It all mapped out like a corny chick flick, except for the ending. She and Percy hadn’t ended up together, but it was okay. There is more to her than that. That was not her main storyline. And she is not going to do this, not now. This is a sequel storyline, and sequels always sucked.

“We should go.” She stands up quickly, wrenching her hand out of his.

“Annabeth –”

She barrels forward, finding her way back to the party, pretending she doesn’t hear him calling after her. She refused to do this. She was a Hunter, and even if it was allowed, it wasn’t logical. It didn’t make sense. She was determined to think clearly.

Annabeth fucking Chase.

*

In the last few months, she and Malcolm had permanently moved into what he called the ‘Shit Shack’ in order to get the job done as quickly as possible. That was where she was now, packing up her things. She wasn’t taking much with her, just the bare bones of what she needed. There’s a knock on the door.

“Annabeth?”

She figured this was going to happen. She can’t fault him for saying goodbye. She would be lying if she said she didn’t want to see him again, either.

“Hi.”

He looks around. “You couldn’t have gotten some nicer sleeping arrangements?”

“All I did was sleep here. I didn’t need anything glamorous.”

Silence. There really isn’t anything else she needs. Everything she needs fits nicely in her backpack. She’s ready to go.

 _I’m ready. I’m_ ready.

“So this is it, huh? This is the last time I’ll see you.”

“We don’t know that.”

“Still. It won’t be the same.”

She can’t deny that.

“Don’t go, Annabeth. Please.”

“I don’t have a choice, Percy. And I _want_ to. You may not believe it, but I do.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“Unfortunately that doesn’t really matter.”

She stands up fully and turns to face him. He looks miserable.

“It’s okay, Percy. You’re a god! You get to be with your father. You’re going to be way too busy. You’ll find a nice mermaid. You’ll hardly notice I’m gone.”

“You know as much as I do that that’s not true.”

They stare.

She wants to kiss him.

“It’ll be okay.”

He smiles. It’s incredibly bitter. “Well. You were always smarter than me.”

The Shit Shack is tiny and they’re ridiculously close to each other. Percy is looking at her in a way that makes her both happy and sad. She’s read the books and she’s watched the movies and she knows that in these situations, the boy always kisses the girl. He’s always the one who closes the gap, who takes the plunge. But this is not a book, and this is a not a movie, and she is not a passive female character. This is her story. This is real life, and she knows Percy, and she knows he won’t kiss her, because he thinks she doesn’t want him to.

So she does it.

She’s kissed Percy once before, briefly, in the Labyrinth. This is nothing like that. He had been caught off guard, then; now he responds immediately, as though he had been waiting for it the whole time. She is suddenly reminded that though they both look 16, they are much older – Percy holds her tightly to him in a way he never would have years ago. She can feel every line of his body and is suddenly very aware of the bed in the room.

Percy tries to pull away but she thinks _nope, not done yet_ and pulls him back to her by his neck. Judging from the little grunt and the tongue in her mouth she guesses he doesn’t mind so much.

The back of her legs hit the bed and there’s that word again, bed, and Percy must have the same idea because he pushes her the slightest bit, allowing her to push back if she wants to stop him. She doesn’t. She flips him instead, turning him around and pushing him onto the bed. She spreads out on top of him and his hands slip under her shirt, rubbing her bare back, and she swears it almost burns.

Everything else has flown out of her head. All she can think about is Percy beneath her. There’s something hard pressing against her thigh but she isn’t in the least embarrassed. She grinds against it and Percy jolts, moans, accidentally biting down on her lip in surprise.

“Ouch.” The pain snaps her back. She looks down at Percy, who is staring at her in surprise and obvious arousal. Everything comes rushing back at her and she scrambles off of him in horror, grabbing her backpack and flying out of the room.

“Annabeth!”

She ignores him and runs, runs, runs until she finds Lady Artemis.

“Goodness, Annabeth.”

“Lady – Lady Artemis.” She’s panting and her heart is threatening to beat out of her chest, but she isn’t sure if that’s because of the running or what came before it.

“Catch your breath.”

“Lady Artemis, I… I have failed you already.”

Artemis’ face doesn’t betray any emotion. “Have you?”

She nods. She feels like crying. “Percy, he – well, no. I. I kissed him. I kissed Percy. A lot.”

She feels like such utter shit she almost wishes Artemis would vaporize her on the spot.

“Did you now?”

She nods. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Lady Artemis. I haven’t even truly joined the Hunters yet and still I’ve failed you.”

Artemis is silent. She tries to look the goddess in the eyes but can’t, so she looks down at her shoes in shame instead.

“You’re right about one thing, Annabeth. You have not truly joined the Hunters yet.”

She isn’t sure what that means, so she just stays silent.

“You have disappointed me, yes, but you have not failed me. You may have the immortality of a Hunter but you have not fully joined as one.”

“But I… I said the words.”

“Yes. But I am willing to forgive you. Be grateful, Annabeth Chase. I am not a forgiving person. But you will make an excellent Hunter, and I must confess I am anxious to see your full potential.”

Annabeth is dumb struck. “Lady… thank you, Lady Artemis. Thank you. I don’t deserve it.”

“There are two things I ask of you, however.”

“Anything.”

“You will say the words again. Commit yourself to me once more, for good.”

“Of course.”

“And I think it would be wise to avoid seeing Percy Jackson. I do not doubt your loyalty, nor do I doubt your commitment, but you are still young, and love is still fresh in your heart. Let me ask you one more time, Annabeth – are you committed to joining the Hunters?”

She knows what Artemis is doing. She knows this is it, this is her chance to turn back, to march back into the Shit Shack and crawl back on top of him and kiss him the way she’s wanted to for so long. Artemis is giving her a chance, to make sure she makes the right decision.

Her lip hurts.

“Yes, Lady Artemis. I am committed 100%.”

“And you accept both of these terms?”

“Yes. Yes, I do. But… can I say goodbye?”

“We leave now, Annabeth. If you say the words once more, we leave now.”

That’s it, she knows. No goodbyes. She knows how hurt he’ll be. But it feels right to her, somehow. She is anxious to leave, to start a new part of her life, to run beside Thalia and the rest of them, to not spend so much time thinking about Percy Jackson.

_He’ll forgive me. He got a goodbye. He got more of a goodbye then either of us expected._

Annabeth bows her head and kneels in front of Artemis.  

“I pledge myself to the goddess Artemis…”

**II.**

“She did what?”

“I told you. She kissed me – like. A lot. Then she ran away. And then I tried to find her and she was gone. Vanished. Bye.”

Grover bleats nervously. Nico looks surly, but then again, that’s just Nico.

“And she kissed you?”

“Yeah. We were kissing. I’ve said that like five times.”

“No, I mean. Did you kiss her? Or did she kiss you? Who started it?”

“Oh. Well, she did.”

“Weeeird.”

“I don’t get it. I don’t get her. Girls don’t make sense.”

“Most girls make sense, you’re just incredibly clueless about them.”

“Okay, Mr Ladies Man, what do you make of it?”

Nico smiles the tiniest bit at that. Nico still doesn’t smile all that much, and he still kind of looks like a 16 year old, but now with facial hair that hovers somewhere between stubble and a beard. But for the past five years he had gotten a lot closer with Percy. He still scares the shit out of Grover, and he still skulks around moodily, but ever since he came out a few months ago – to Percy, at least – they’ve gotten incredibly close.  The walls aren’t fully down, yet, and knowing Nico maybe they never will be. But it’s better.

“Yeah, because I’m the person to talk to about that.”

Percy groans. “You both are useless.” Annabeth would know. Annabeth always knew. But that doesn’t help either.

“You could ask Rachel,” Grover says. Percy grimaces.

“I don’t know much about girls, but I feel like asking someone who, for arguments sake, is kind of an ex-girlfriend, about the girl you’ve had a thing for for eight years or so, is probably a really awful idea.”

“You could ask Aphrodite?”

“I would literally rather put Kronos back together and ask him. I don’t need everybody within a 50 mile radius to know about my love life.”

“It’s more of a lack of love life, really.”

“You’re really not helping, Nico.”

“You could ask your mother?”

Percy scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah. Yeah. Probably the best bet. But she loved Annabeth. I bet you any money she’ll blame me.”

*

“It’s a very simple answer, really.”

Percy will never understand women.

“How?”

“She kissed you because she still has feelings for you, because she was scared and sad that she was leaving. She left in such a hurry because she went back on her vow. She broke her word.”

“So then why did she kiss me, if she was just going to regret it?”

“Hormones, I assume.”

“Mom, you can’t blame everything on hormones. I’m 21 years old.”

“Could have fooled me.” She winks at him.

Percy doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t really know what to say.

“What are your plans, Percy?”

“I don’t know. I’m technically Dad’s lieutenant. Whatever that means. I’ve been… making excuses. For staying up here. But now… it’s time for me to go.”

“You mean there’s no reason for you to stay anymore.”

Mothers, man. They knew everything.

“He let me stay.”

“Of course he did, I told him to.”

“Mom!”

“I knew you weren’t ready to go yet. I told him to chill out until you were ready.”

“You told the god of the sea to chill out.”

“God of the sea or not, he’s still the father of my child. And I know you best. I know what you need. And don’t ever think I wouldn’t take down every god up there in order to do what’s best for you.”

Sometimes Percy forgets just how amazing his mother is.

“I guess it’s time now, then?”

“Final decision is yours. Don’t let what happened with Annabeth rush you. But don’t let it stop you, either.”

*

“Grover, stop crying. Seriously, dude. You’re not here most of the time anyway. You’re always out fishing soda cans out of bushes and shit. You’re Mr Green! You won’t even miss me.”

_It’s okay, Percy. You’re a god! You get to be with your father. You’re going to be way too busy. You’ll find a nice mermaid. You’ll hardly notice I’m gone._

Sternly avoiding the voice of Annabeth echoing in his head, Percy gives Grover a manly pat on the back that is effectively un-manlified when Grover yanks him in for a full contact hug. Trying to discreetly wipe the slobber off of his shoulder, he turns to Nico, who is rocking back and forth on his heels. He smiles the tiniest bit at him, and Percy smiles back. Nico is not a hugging kind of dude, and this goodbye is enough for both of them.

His parents are both waiting for him. His father had decided to escort Percy, to make this some sort of special event, and when Percy is finished his goodbyes he sees them together, talking quietly. For some reason the way Poseidon is looking at his mother is making him uncomfortable. He used to have the same dream most kids with divorced parents had, the hope that one day his parents would be together. That’s a lot more complicated with a god, of course, and now that Paul is in the picture Percy doesn’t feel like that anymore. He loves his father, but he loves Paul as well, and Paul is there for his mother in a way Poseidon never could be. Ultimately, that’s what matters to Percy.

“Keep in touch.”

“Sure mom, I’ll send frequent letters. They might be a little soggy, though.”

She glares at him and he sighs. “I will, mom, promise.”

She pulls him in for a hug that breaks several ribs, kisses him on top of the head (she has to stand on her toes and yank his head down to do so) and then points a finger at Poseidon. “You look after him!”

He looks taken aback, staring down at her finger. Percy wonders if any mortal has ever talked to his father like that.

“Yes, Sally. Of course.” He doesn’t say it, but it’s hanging in the air between the three of them nonetheless – _he can’t exactly die, anyway._

Sally hugs him one last time. “I _love_ you,” she tells him, firmly clutching his face. He smiles and kisses her cheek. “I love you too, mom. I’ll see you soon.”

Walking away from his mother, Poseidon turns to him. “I had forgotten.”

“Forgotten what?”

His father grins at him. “How scary your mother can be.”

Percy laughs and his father throws an arm around him. He breathes in the air, thinking about how happy he is, he really is, to be starting this, to be with his father and doing cool, godlike self. He laughs again, incredibly at ease, feeling, for the first time in a really long time (at least five years, if he’s being honest) free and liberated. And hopeful. Really hopeful.

He’s happy when he realizes he isn’t thinking about Annabeth, and firmly ignores the fact that that is thinking about Annabeth.

**III.**

Annabeth falls back onto her pillow. Her hair is plastered to her face and her shirt is sticking to her chest. The sweat is trickling down her back and there’s a slash on her forearm. Next to her, Thalia is in the exact same state, minus the slash.

“You’ve gotten good.”

“You’re still better.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

“You spent five years as a tree!”

Thalia laughs loudly. “I lucked out, honestly. We were perfectly matched the whole time.”

Annabeth scowls half-heartedly. “I feel disgusting.”

“Yeah. I miss showers.”

Annabeth sighs wistfully. Although bathing as a Hunter is better than just regular camping, it’s still not exactly glamourous, and it’s the one thing Annabeth misses the most (other than her family, she thinks, but sometimes, like right now, she thinks she might miss showers more).

Thalia walks away to talk to one of the other Hunters, and Annabeth starts trying to disentangle her hair from the elastic holding it up. After a few moments of tugging, she sighs and leaves her tent, almost walking into the women standing outside of it.

“Oh, sorry –” Annabeth stops as she sees who the woman in front of her is. She sighs exasperatedly. No good ever came from her mother randomly showing up.

“Hello mother.”

“Hello Annabeth. Please try and contain your excitement at seeing me.”

Annabeth scowls. “Who’s been teaching you sarcasm?”

“I’ve been around the human race for a very long time, Annabeth, sarcasm is only one of the talents I’ve picked up.”

Annabeth tugs on her hair half-heartedly. “What are you doing here?”

Athena walks over and starts sorting through Annabeth’s hair, and she resists the urge to pout; she can’t help but feel she’s being babied. Athena’s fingers are gentle as they work on freeing her daughter’s hair from the elastic.

“I just wanted to check in, Annabeth. It’s been a while, after all. I figured you’d want to see your mother occasionally.”

“Of course I do. Just wondering why you chose now. It’s only been a year. You’ve gone much longer without seeing me.” She tries to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

Athena doesn’t respond to this but Annabeth can easily imagine the look of annoyance on her mother’s face. “I just wanted to visit and let you know I’m proud of you.”

 _“Proud?_ Why?”

“I’m proud you decided to become a Hunter. It fits you. You will make a great Hunter.”

Annabeth smiles, happy that her mother is behind her so she cannot see how happy the compliment had made her. Athena pulls the elastic out of her hair and hands it to Annabeth.

“Thanks mom.”

Athena starts walking and Annabeth follows. “I was very proud, Annabeth, when I heard you had taken the pledge. It’s a much better decision for you.”

Something that feels like dread starts pooling in the pit of her stomach, but she ignores it. “Better than what?”

“You know, Annabeth. Better than whatever Percy Jackson would have done with you.”

“What do you mean _done with me?”_

Athena huffs in annoyance. “Don’t try and tell me there was nothing going on between you two, Annabeth. I am your mother, and I am the goddess of wisdom. There’s no getting past me.”

“That’s not what I mean, I’m not denying that. What I want to know is what do you mean what he would have _done with me._ ”

“I am no fan of the boy, Annabeth, and you know that.”

“What do you think would have happened? If nothing had changed, and we were together, Percy wouldn’t be _doing_ anything with me, that’s not how it works. He’s not _in charge._ ” Annabeth’s annoyance is steadily turning into anger. “Is that the only reason you’re proud of me? Because this way me and Percy can’t be together? Is that all that matters to you?”

“You know how I feel about Percy Jackson. I’m glad that you made a decision that excludes him. It is _better_ for you this way.”

“I didn’t make this decision because of Percy, mother. And Percy is a _good guy._ Percy is nice and smart and brave and he saved _all of you._ You owe him majorly. I didn’t do this because of Percy, and I didn’t do it for you, so you could sit back and revel in my permanent virginity. This is my decision, and if the only reason you’re going to be proud of me is because now I have to stay away from Percy, I would rather you weren’t.”

“I still don’t trust him, Annabeth.”

“What do you think is going to happen? What do you think he can do? I’m sworn to Lady Artemis. I’m loyal to her.”

“Are you?”

She wants to tell her mother that she hates her but she knows she’d just sound like a petulant five year old, so she gives her mother her best glare, one of the many talents inherited from Athena, and storms off, refusing to look at her mother. She can’t help but laugh, albeit a little bitterly, at how hard she had stood up for Percy. Some things don’t change, she guesses, despite how hard you may try.

When she looks back her mother is gone and she tries to pretend that she isn’t upset by it.

*

“Things went well, I take it.”

A few hours later and Annabeth is still fuming. Thalia sits down, taking off her boots, and hands Annabeth a piece of bread.

“Didn’t see you at dinner.”

“Wasn’t hungry. My stomach was filled with anger and betrayal.”

Thalia snorts. “That’s poetic.”

“Can you believe her, though?”

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that yes. I can always believe the gods.”

“She hasn’t seen me in over a year and the first thing she does is tells me she’s happy that I’m not around him anymore. This is better than whatever he would do with you, she said.”

“Your mother has never liked Percy.”

“I know that. But I didn’t make this decision because of him. I thought she was actually proud of me for once.”

“I’m sorry, Annabeth.”

“Yeah, well. What else did I really expect from my mother.”

They’re both silent for a minute, Annabeth picking off pieces of the bread, rolling them up into tiny balls and then popping them in her mouth. Finally Thalia speaks again, hesitantly, as if she isn’t sure she really wants to follow through with what she’s saying.

“You know… you haven’t said his name in over a year. Not to me.”

“What?”

“Percy. You haven’t said his name in over a year.”

“I hadn’t noticed.” Her tone is clipped. Thalia takes this as a warning to stop.

“We’re the same, you know,” Annabeth says.

“What do you mean?”

“Me and Percy. You and Luke. We’re both here.”

Thalia shakes her head. “No, Annabeth. We’re not the same.”

“But –”

“Luke is gone forever, Annabeth. And I can say his name.”

Annabeth stands up. She realizes she’s being defensive, but the conversation with her mother has put her on edge and she doesn’t care that she’s most likely proving Thalia’s point. She looks Thalia dead in the eye and spits the next word at her.

“Percy.”

She leaves, then, ignoring Thalia as she calls after her.

“I’m your friend, Annabeth, remember that. I’m on your side.”

*

For fifteen years she doesn’t see him. In the beginning the absence is awful, and she constantly feels incomplete, like a half-finished sentence. She finds she’s looking out for him, peering into the forests, hoping to see him waiting and watching and yet hoping he isn’t at the same time. She’s upset that he hasn’t sought her out, even though she knows it shouldn’t.

Finally, Percy comes to see her, cornering her when she is alone in her tent. She looks up, forcing annoyance onto her face. After so long she is happy to see him, and she hates that she is. But at the same time, she’s also concerned. He shouldn’t be here – he knows it’s against the rules, and what if he’s caught?

“What are you doing?”

“Hello to you too.”

“Percy! What are you doing here?”

“I assume by that you mean Percy! It’s been so long, it’s great to see you.”

“No, that’s not at all what I meant. Seriously, what the fuck are you doing? You are not supposed to be here. Any one of these girls could shoot you on sight.”

“Good thing I can’t die then, huh?”

 _“Get out of here,_ ” she hisses. Percy looks incredibly sad.

“I can’t do this, Annabeth. I can’t… I miss you. I went for as long as I could but I can’t stand it anymore.”

“I don’t care.”

“How can you be so cruel about this? It’s like you’ve forgotten everything we’ve been through.”

“No, I haven’t, Percy, but we can’t do this anymore. We are both doing different things and those things don’t involve each other.”

“Tell me honestly that you don’t want to see me anymore.”

“I don’t want to see you anymore.”

“Look at me, Annabeth. In the eye, look me in the eye and tell me truthfully if you want me to leave.”

She looks at him, and he looks so sad, so sad and alone and she can’t keep his gaze, just looks down at the floor and mutters quietly “I don’t want to see you anymore.”

“I don’t believe you.” _Neither do I._

“It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter whether you believe me or not, because I am asking you to leave and you owe me that, you owe me the respect to listen to what I’m fucking telling you even if you don’t think I’m telling the truth. That’s not your call, Percy. Now get out, or I’ll shoot you myself.”

“You kissed me.”

She doesn’t want to talk about this. “It was a mistake. I’m sorry for doing it.”

“I’m not.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“You kissed me and then you left without saying goodbye. How can you expect me to just walk away and never see you again after that?”

“It doesn’t matter, Percy. Look, I’m sorry I kissed you, I’m sorry I dredged this all up, but you need to put it behind you. I have.”

“Have you?”

She still can’t look at him. “Yes,” she says, but she’s pretty sure he knows she’s lying.

“I can’t just walk away and never see you again. You can’t expect me to do that.”

“We don’t have a choice, Percy. I am a _Hunter._ I am to have nothing to do with you. That’s the deal. That’s how it has to be. That’s the only option.”

“It’s not.”

“It _is._ The end, Percy. Now leave. This is enough.”

She gets up and walks past him. He grabs her arm and spins her towards him. His hand burns.

“Please,” is the only word he says. She finally looks him in the eye, but the sadness she sees in them makes her look away almost immediately. She wants to kiss him

 _No you don’t,_ she tries to tell herself, but it’s a lie and she knows it. She had forgotten how green his eyes were, the way he looked at her and the way her name sounded when it came out of his mouth. Seeing him, now, reminds her of everything, and she relives everything, his arms around her as she sobbed over the Sirens, the awkward dance they had shared, the surprised look on his face after she had kissed him, a lifetime ago in Mt. Saint Helen’s. She can remember the feeling of him beneath her, can remember feeling him hard against her leg, and a warm feeling starts in her stomach and starts creeping lower. She has to rip her arm away, afraid she’s going to do something that will get her turned into a bear.

“If you’re still here when I get back I will tell Lady Artemis.”

“You’re going to tell on me?”

“I don’t want to be the one to shoot you, Percy.”

“I’ll take that as a sign you still care.”

She doesn’t answer, just walks away from him. When she get back an hour or so later he is gone, and she ignores the faint feeling of disappointment she feels.

On her pillow is a note, written in Percy’s messy scrawl. _I won’t forget,_ is all it says.

Annabeth debates burning it but she tucks it in her pocket instead.

*

He asks Artemis to meet him on Olympus, and when she shows up, Percy has to repeatedly remind himself that he is a god, now, and that she cannot kill him by blasting him to dust or turning him into a chastity belt, or something. This doesn’t make him any less afraid.

“You turned her against me.”

He had planned on being slightly more subtle about the situation, but all he can picture are her eyes, cold and cruel, _I don’t want to see you anymore._

Artemis manages to look simultaneously intrigued and annoyed. “Excuse me?”

“Annabeth. You turned her against me. You made her hate me.”

Artemis’ face has turned completely dark, and she glares at him. “I have done nothing of the sort.”

“Then why does she hate me?”

“I suggest you ask yourself that.”

Percy breathes in deeply, trying to calm himself down, to speak rationally. “I want you to let her go.”

“You say that as if I am somehow keeping her here against her will.”

“I just mean… I want you to… release her from her vows, and such.”

“Implying she no longer wants to be in them.”

Percy strongly resists the temptation to huff in annoyance. “We were young, you know? We didn’t really realize what we were doing. We rushed into things. Annabeth was angry at me.”

“You think highly of yourself, Jackson, that you believe you were the entire basis of her decision.”

“I don’t – I don’t think it was entirely me. I just think that we both made decisions we shouldn’t have. And that maybe we wouldn’t have, if we had time to really think about it.”

“Annabeth is a Hunter, and she is a damn good one. She is a Hunter because she wants to be. Annabeth was given a choice to turn back, something no other girl has ever been given. She remained loyal to me. Did you know that?”

Percy’s mouth starts opening and closing, looking rather like a fish. Finally he says, “When?”

“When what?”

“When did you give her a choice to turn back?”

Artemis is looking at him in a way that tells him she knows exactly what he’s thinking and exactly why he’s upset. “Right before she left Olympus. I told her I needed someone who was sure of themselves and their decision. I wanted to make sure this was something she really wanted. It was. She retook her vows and we left immediately.”

Percy looks around for a place to sit and finds at least three chairs in his immediate vicinity. He makes a mental note to thank Annabeth for putting so many chairs into her design of Olympus, until he realizes he probably won’t ever get a chance. Even if he gets to see Annabeth again, more likely than not she’ll just yell at him.

“Annabeth is here because she wants to be. You may flatter yourself by thinking that she chose to join me out of heartbreak over you, but what, then, is your excuse for her retaking her vows after she had kissed you?”

Percy opens his mouth to speak, but no words come. He just shakes his head. “We were young, and stupid, and we made stupid decisions.”

“You regret your decision?”

“I…” He’s been feeling it, but there are still aspects of being a god that he really, really loves. He feels like he can’t regret it. He has to enjoy it, to make up for all that he’s given up. He can’t regret it. Nothing will be worth it if he regrets it. Artemis looks at him pityingly.

“I cannot help you, Percy Jackson. All I know is that Annabeth is happy, and asking me to ‘let her go,’ as though she were a captive animal, is disrespectful to everything Annabeth Chase is. Annabeth is a good Hunter. She is better this way.”

“Annabeth was always the best. Even before you.”

“Maybe you should have told her that.”

“I’m in love with her.” His entire being looks defeated; his voice is low and his shoulders droop.

“Yes. I suspect she feels the same.”

“Then why –”

“Despite what millennia of human optimists have spurted out, love is not the most important thing. Love is not all you need, and it will not save you. Actions have consequences that you must take responsibility for, and love is not a way out. It is not the be all end all of this world. This universe does not care about your heart, Percy Jackson, and it will not rearrange itself to right your wrongs.”

“You were in love once.” Something Annabeth had told him, years and years ago, flashes through his mind. Artemis’ gaze turns steely, staring him down, and Percy immediately regrets ever bringing it up. But he’s already started. Actions have consequences.

“Watch yourself, Jackson.”

“You were, though. With that guy in the sky. You turned him into a constellation when he died.”

After a moment of silence Artemis speaks. “Orion. I was tricked into killing him. In my grief I turned him into stars and placed him forever in the sky. I do not know what your point is, Percy Jackson. If anything, take this as a warning. The universe does not care about your feelings, and love cannot stop an arrow through the brain. If the gods cannot succeed, what makes you think you can?”

“But you were in love, you should understand –”

“Yes, Jackson. And look how well that turned out.” Artemis starts to walk away, and Percy drops his head into his hands.

“Be careful, Percy Jackson.” He looks up. Her face has softened slightly. “Your love will not turn you into stars. It will only burn you up.”

**IV.**

For a while, Annabeth can almost forget. After hiking all day, following Artemis and training hard, she has little time to think of anything else. Annabeth had proven to be one of the best with a knife, so more often than not she is up late training others. As Hunters they already have superior abilities, but Annabeth had always been good with knives, so she helps the girls who want to tighten up their already superior skills. Thalia and her also spend a lot of time together, and since there isn’t much time to talk during the day, often they take advantage of the nights, so by the next morning Annabeth is exhausted and by the time evening rolls around she feels like she could drop dead.

This leaves very little time to think about her immortality or Percy, and sometimes she can forget, if only for a few minutes.

Inevitably, she is always brought back.

*

Malcolm is the first.

It’s her mother who tells her. Annabeth is walking with Thalia one day when Athena suddenly appears in front of them, sitting on a tree stump and looking morose.

“Mother!”

“Hello Annabeth.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I have some news.” At this she glances at Thalia, who, shooting Annabeth a confused look, awkwardly bows at the goddess and walks away. Annabeth remains standing, staring at her mother.

“What’s going on?”

Athena sighs. Annabeth had never really had a close mother-daughter relationship, which is difficult when your mother is an immortal goddess. When she was working on Olympus she and her mother had interacted more, but upon joining the Hunters all of Annabeth’s time had been spent with Artemis. Annabeth had fallen out of touch with everybody; her mother was no different. So seeing her suddenly one day, she thinks, probably means her mother isn’t bringing her good news.

“It’s about your brother.”

“I have a lot of brothers, mother.”

“Malcolm, Annabeth. It’s about Malcolm.”

When her father was dying, it had been so difficult to watch, because he was her father and he was in pain, but he was her father, and children are supposed to bury their parents. She could forget about the fact that she was still in the body of a 16 year old because, at the time, being 16 again, truly 16, wasn’t the worst thing.

But it was manageable. It was to be expected.

When she arrives at the hospital she rushes up to the room without bothering to talk to any of the nurses. He has a private room – Malcolm had made a hefty living as a designer – and when she arrives he is surrounded by his wife (a younger girl from the Demeter cabin who Annabeth never got to know) and his three children, who all look startlingly like Malcolm.

In a different situation, Annabeth would have felt foolish. Malcolm’s youngest is probably twenty years older than Annabeth looks, and his wife is staring at her in bewilderment. She isn’t sure if Malcolm has ever told her about Annabeth and her situation, but right now Annabeth doesn’t give a shit.

“Malcolm!”

His mouth flinches with what Annabeth thinks is supposed to be a smile. He looks like he’s in an unbearable amount of pain and Annabeth wants to cry. “Funny. You look just like my sister.”

“I’m sorry. It’s been so long and I’m sorry.”

“You should be. How dare you listen to the rules set by a scary man hating goddess instead of sneaking off to see your brother constantly. How dare you.”

She wants to cry but she manages to stop herself. “How are you still making jokes?”

“It’s just death, Annabeth. Happens to everyone. Almost.”

She takes a deep breath and looks around at his family. She realizes she’s still in Hunter gear and for the first time feels slightly embarrassed. Malcolm looks at his wife. “Can I have a minute?”

His son looks at her, not in a mean or distrusting way, more confused and slightly intrigued at the 16 year old girl who is so buddy-buddy with his father. They don’t go far; just to hover in the doorway, evidently reluctant to leave Malcolm for too long. Annabeth sits down in the chair his wife had just vacated.

“What’s wrong? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Malcolm flinches in what she recognizes as an attempted smile. Her heart aches.

“Everything, pretty much. Easier question would be what’s NOT wrong. Funny how you can spend your whole life working out, fighting nasty monsters and teaching your children how to properly fight, being in tip top shape and avoiding all the bad things you’re supposed to avoid, and you _still_ get cancer. Where’s the fairness in that?”

“I never knew, Malcolm, I’m so sorry. I would have come to see you if I had known.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry yourself over it. How did you find out, though?”

“Mom.”

He lets out a long, low whistle. “Oh.”

“You seem less than thrilled.”

“I just figure if she knows, and she’s sending you over, I probably don’t have much time left, don’t you think?”

“Oh gods.” She hadn’t thought of that.

“It’s cool, you’re pretty much just the harbinger of death, but no big deal really.”

She laughs, despite everything. Malcolm could always make her laugh, she remembers that clearly. She remembers late nights on Olympus, kicking him awake in the mornings, the stupid petty fights they had gotten into over pillars or how big Hephaestus’ nose was. The pride she had felt when Olympus was completed, and saying over and over again as everyone congratulated her “I couldn’t have done it without Malcolm.” She remembers when their mother had to intercept a particularly nasty fight and the feeling like they had both just been grounded by mommy. She remembers crying into his shoulder and the subtle digs he would make at Percy for her sake.

She doesn’t know this Malcolm in front of her. This Malcolm has hospital equipment strapped everywhere and a dinner that seems to consist almost entirely of jello, which he still hadn’t even eaten. This Malcolm has wrinkles etched so deep into his skin Annabeth struggles to remember what his face looked like without them. He has teeth that are such a startling shade of white that Annabeth realizes they are probably not real. He is old and he looks so out of place. He doesn’t look real, as though the real Malcolm is gone, trapped inside this dying old man and only surfacing in the jokes and that look in his eyes he only ever had when he looked at her, that overprotective sibling look that explicitly said he would kill anyone who ever tried to hurt her (“You know I’m a better fighter than you, right?” She had said to him one day when she saw that look, and he had smiled, “if that helps you sleep at night,” ruffling her hair, and she had flipped him over onto his back and held her foot to his neck and he had laughed and screamed “UNCLE” at the top of his lungs, “why do I even try with you?”).

Looking over at his family, Annabeth’s stomach sinks and she finally understands. Malcolm is real. Malcolm is normal. Malcolm is everything he should be. It is Annabeth, 82 year old Annabeth stuck in the body of 16 year old Annabeth, who is wrong. She is not who she is supposed to be.

This old, dying Malcolm in a hospital bed is so much more human than she is. She is old but she is not and her brother is dying and she is _wrong._

“You have scary Annabeth thinking face on.”

“I wish you wouldn’t call it that.”

“I just call them as I see them. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m here for you. Nothing is wrong.”

“Annabeth. I’m old, partially deaf, dying of cancer and falling apart at the seams, I can’t chew food anymore and I need help to pee. But I’m not dumb. My wits, at the very least, I have managed to retain. Probably thanks to mom.”

“Can’t have a child of the goddess of wisdom not knowing what way is up.”

“Tell me. For old time’s sake.”

She huffs. “I’m sitting here thinking about how wrong this all is, with you, but I just realized that I’m the wrong one. I’m weird. You’re normal, you’ve done everything right, but I’m still 16 and I look younger than your children, and I don’t want to have to sit back and watch everyone I love die while I look like I haven’t even finished high school yet.”

“One, you’ve always been weird. But so have I. We’re the children of gods, Annabeth, how normal do you think this is? You know why I lost my teeth? It wasn’t because of old age, it was because I was in a fight with a monster and I got my teeth knocked out. All of them. I was forty. Forty, with no teeth. We rebuilt Olympus when we were 20 fucking years old. And somehow I made it to 82, which is pretty fucking impressive, if I do say so myself. Not all of us were this lucky.”

She drops her eyes, staring at the hospital floor. Malcolm grabs her hand. “You’re just as normal as the rest of us. Do you like being a Hunter?”

“I love being a Hunter.”

“Then shut the fuck up.”

She laughs. “You swear a lot.”

“I’m eighty fucking two. I’ve earned the right.”

She smiles at him and he squeezes her hand, as tightly as a dying old man can squeeze. “I’m glad I got to be your brother.”

“You still are, dummy.” She stands up, looking over at his family again. It’s time for her to go. “I love you. Thank you for everything.”

“Don’t worry, Annabeth. We’ll see each other again. Greeks, and all that. Weird Underworld stuff. You know the drill.”

She laughs and leans over, kissing his forehead. “See you, Malcolm.”

As she turns away he says, “Hey Annabeth? Remember the Shit Shack?”

She nods, biting her tongue as hard as she can to stop from crying. “Of course I do. You wouldn’t stop complaining about it.”

“We did some pretty great things, didn’t we?”

“Yeah we did. Really, really great things.”

He smiles, and she only sees Malcolm, now, 18 year old Malcolm and his stupid beard and that time she had knocked him down and tried to force him to shave it off, 21 year old Malcolm sneaking off at their party for completing Olympus to make out with a Demeter girl (he seemed to have a weakness for them), Malcolm’s fiftieth birthday party, how he had jokingly pushed her out of the door, “You make me seem thirty times older than I actually am you are uninvited.” She realizes that young Malcolm and old Malcolm are not two different people. They are both the same. Both her brother.

“I love you. Go hunt some things.”

She nods, bites harder. “Okay.”

*

She debates running somewhere farther away but she thinks it will be less suspicious to be sobbing outside of a hospital than anywhere else. People will assume and understand and leave her alone. She collapses on a ledge to a garden, rips her sleeve on a branch and ignores it. She is crying hard and there is snot dripping from her nose in what is probably an incredibly unattractive way. People look at her and sometimes there is sympathy but usually they do not see her. She is only another casualty, broken in front of a hospital.

There’s a hand on her shoulder and when she looks up to see the stranger who had stopped to comfort her she sees it’s not a stranger at all.

“Why are you here?” She tries to put some fight into her voice – over the years of not seeing him she had tried hard to build up a hefty reservoir of dislike to make things easier – but she is too defeated and besides, her hate reservoir had always run dry.

“I heard. About Malcolm. I’m sorry, Annabeth.”

She is so, so sad and she wants more than anything to be alone and to cry, because she hasn’t done that, hasn’t had a good, long, sad, self-pitying cry for about 70 years. And now Percy is ruining it.

“Go away, Percy. You shouldn’t be here.”

“Annabeth, I’m here for you. I want to be here for you. I know how hard this is for you.”

“You don’t know, Percy. Don’t pretend that you do. You never really knew Malcolm. He isn’t yours to mourn. Stop forcing yourself into every situation that doesn’t involve you.”

She can tell he’s upset and even a little angry at that but he doesn’t show it, and deep down she is grateful, that Percy would never turn this situation into a fight. “I’m here as your friend. Please, Annabeth. Let me be your friend.”

She doesn’t have the will to fight, not right now, so she slumps into him and cries, the way she had never let herself do before. Percy holds her and in the back of her mind she notices that there is nothing awkward about it. It is as if they were sixteen again, really sixteen, and she can remember his hand over hers as the poison from Kronos’ blade coursed through her body, _How did you know?  I don’t know, Percy. I just had this feeling you were in danger._

“This is what it’s going to be like.” She says this into his shoulder, in between breaths. “We have to sit by and watch our friends die. One by one, until they’re all gone.”

“There’s still us.”

This sends a jolt through her spine and she is brought back to the present, Immortal God Percy Jackson holding Immortal Hunter Annabeth Chase, and nothing is the same. She pulls away and ignores the wet spot on his shoulder.

“There is no us, Percy.”

“There used to be.”

“Not anymore.”

“Why do you hide from me, Annabeth? I’m trying. I really am. I care about you, still, I know you better than anyone else, I’m really trying to keep us –”

“What? To keep us what? Friends? Something more? We can’t be either of those, Percy. We are too far gone and there’s too much in the way.”

“You’re hiding from me.”

She is still crying, but now it’s mainly angry tears.

“I don’t want to see you.”

“I don’t believe that.” He’s silent and she avoids his eyes. She can forget how startlingly green they are, and she doesn’t like to be reminded. “She told you to stay away from me, didn’t she?”

She shakes her head. “Let it go, Percy.”

“Annabeth –“

“No. That’s enough. My brother is dead. Malcolm is dead. Malcolm is 82 years old and dead and I am 82 and 16 at the same time. Stop it. Leave me alone, Percy. We are two different people and there is no going back and _my brother is dead._ ”

Percy looks like he was just slapped across the face. “Gods – gods, Annabeth, you’re right, I’m sorry, I’m really fucking sorry. I’m being awful. I just – it’s not important. I’m sorry. I’ll let you mourn. I just want you to know – I can’t let it go. I won’t.”

She glares at him. Despite everything, Percy is still Percy, and she hates him for it. She has changed so much over the years, but the Percy in front of her is the same Percy from so many years ago, the same dumb Seaweed Brain who drooled in his sleep and held up the world for her.

“Next time I’ll shoot you,” is all she says, walking away before she can see the look on his face. She finds a tree and she hides beneath it, cries for her brother and for Percy and for everything that used to be, and for herself.

“Why are you crying?”

There is a little girl in front of her, maybe six years old. Annabeth wipes her nose and tries her best to smile.

“My brother died.”

The little girl gasps and her mouth forms a perfect ‘o’. “Why?”

“He was old.”

“How old was he?”

“82.”

She cocks her head at Annabeth. “That’s impossible.”

 _Yep_ , she thinks. _That’s me_.

“You’re right,” is all she says. “It is impossible.”

“So then why are you crying?”

This little girl is obviously not leaving without an answer, so she tries to find a simple explanation that will sufficiently satisfy a most likely mortal little girl. Finally, she just says “boys.”

The girl’s face scrunches up as if she had just heard something gross. “Ew! I don’t like boys.”

Despite everything, Annabeth smiles. “Me neither.”

“They’re dirty and gross and they smell bad and they’re mean.”

She tries to force out a little laugh for the girl, but it sounds more like a cough. “You’re right. Boys are gross and smelly.”

“Don’t cry over dumb boys! That’s what my mommy always says, because one time at school a boy pushed me over into a puddle.”

“I’ll tell you what.” This little girl has red hair and a missing tooth, a hole in her overalls and chipped purple polish on her nails. Annabeth feels an incredible urge to protect her at all costs. “If any boy is ever mean to you again, tell them your new friend Annabeth is going to come beat them up.”

The girl smiles. “That’s a pretty name.”

“Thank you. What’s yours?”

“Marie.”

“Nice to meet you, Marie. I’m sorry that boy was mean to you.”

“It’s okay! I pushed him back.”

A call from across the park and a harried looking mother signals that their time is done. “That’s my mommy.”

“Bye, Marie.”

“Bye!” She bounds away, but turns back after a few steps. “Boys suck!” Annabeth leans back against the tree and wipes her eyes.

“Yes they do.” Then she gets to her feet and walks to the spot where her ride (a rather grumpy Apollo who keeps complaining in haikus) is waiting. She’s annoyed that she once again let Percy get into her head, and she’s still incredibly sad about Malcolm, but life as a demi-god (mortal or not) is one that is constantly close to death, and she smiles about the fact that Malcolm had made it to old age.

“This is so not fun,

I am not a cab driver,

For frigid young girls.”

 _He’s moody today,_ she thinks.

*

After Malcolm dies Annabeth is suddenly incredibly aware of everything that is happening. If she is ever anywhere where she sees older people, middle-aged or seniors, she suddenly remembers that all these people are younger than her. She no longer sees age the same way, because she has friends who look 13 who are over 500 years old and people who used to be older than her are younger, now, and everything is upside down and inside out and age means nothing anymore.

Artemis comes to her a few weeks after her brother’s death.

“May I come in?”

Annabeth stands immediately and nods. Artemis smiles kindly at her.

“Sit, Annabeth, please.” She does, although Artemis remains standing.

“How are you doing?”

Annabeth forces a smile. “All right.”

“Somehow I don’t believe you.”

Annabeth can’t argue this, so she doesn’t.

“I have seen this before, Annabeth. In many of my girls. Immortality is just a word until your friends start dying. I am sorry about your brother.”

“Thank you.” Annabeth is trying not to cry.

“I cannot tell you that it will be all right, because sometimes it is not. I have known girls who were not able to survive this. Watching their friends and family die leaves them broken. But you are strong. One of the strongest people I know, in fact, and I am very, very old. People die, Annabeth. But you will survive it.”

Annabeth nods. “Thank you, Lady Artemis.” Her voice is very hoarse and quiet. Artemis stands and places a hand on Annabeth’s shoulder, and Annabeth is able to smile.

**V.**

Annabeth is practicing her archery with a girl who looks 13 but is, in reality, 350ish, a daughter of Apollo, when Artemis walks up to them. They both bow, but the strange look on Artemis’ face worries Annabeth.

“Annabeth. You have a visitor.”

“Who?” She doesn’t have a clue who could possibly be calling on her.

“Percy Jackson.”

Annabeth balks at this, and the girl beside her – Alexandra, her name is, although at the turn of the last century she decided to go by Lexi to try to “keep up with the times” bristles. “Lady Artemis –”

“I know, Alexandra.” Artemis is the only person who calls her by her full name, because Artemis is the only one who can without being threatened. “But this is different. There is a reason.”

This worries Annabeth even more. “What’s going on?”

When Artemis looks at her, there is a sinking feeling in her stomach, and she is filled with such an intense feeling of dread that it scares her.

“Go see him. He will explain.”

When Annabeth passes her Artemis rests her hand on Annabeth’s shoulder and gives her what was probably meant to be a reassuring squeeze. It has the opposite effect.

Percy is in her tent, and she knows this because she can hear him crying.

“Percy? What’s going on?”

She doesn’t really think he sees her when he looks up, not completely. His eyes are a brighter shade of green then she ever thought possible. She can barely understand a word he says, but eventually he is able to quell his tears long enough to gasp out a word.

She drops to the floor. Thalia runs in shortly after, and Percy repeats his message, says that word again, and Thalia freezes, stands completely still for what feels like an eternity, and that word bounces between them.

*

When they arrive at Camp Half Blood the first thing she sees is Chiron and the Council of Cloven Elders. The first thing she hears is Juniper, who it sitting beside a girl Annabeth doesn’t know, sobbing. Percy walks over to Chiron and she follows, Thalia’s hand in hers, unable to do anything else.

“How did it happen?” She manages to ask Chiron, because Percy hadn’t been able to tell her anything.

“We’re not sure, really. He had been gone for a few weeks. He wanted to do something to try and clean up the oceans. We think –” Chiron stops and looks at Percy apologetically. “We think he was going to try to contact Percy.”

“How did – how did you find out?”

Chiron looks at Percy again, who takes a shaky breath and is finally able to speak.

“The empathy link… it stopped working once I became a god. At least we thought so. Grover was trying to get closer to the water. It’s easier to get my attention. While he was travelling – something happened. I don’t know who, or what, or why.”

“But how did you know that he… if the empathy link stopped working?”

Percy swallows. “It hadn’t I guess. Not completely. It was just… much less powerful than it used to be, to the point where we both thought it was gone. But when it happened, when he… I passed out. I was with my father and I passed out, and when I came to there was this – intense pain in my chest, and somehow I had this instinct of where I had to go. When I got there, I… I found him. I knew it was him because I – could feel it. This one, huge, bright moment of Grover, and then I couldn’t feel him anymore.”

Annabeth is crying now, and with a deep breath she manages to ask, “Where is he?”

*

Grover is no less than a laurel. She knows this is the highest honour that is given to a satyr, but it doesn’t seem big enough. Grover deserves more. Grover deserves a forest.

Juniper is still sobbing loudly, but both she and Percy are quiet now. He had taken Grover’s laurel tree and brought it to the Big House, and she realizes, standing there staring down at the tree that used to be one of her best friends, that they somehow ended up holding hands, although she can’t remember when this happened, nor who instigated it.

They plant Grover’s laurel tree on the hill leading up to Camp Half Blood. Everyone seems to come to this decision unanimously, and she knows that it’s right. It’s where Grover would want to be.

Percy is given the honour, but he reaches out his hands and her and Thalia join with him. They plant him together, hands clasped.  Annabeth’s tears start flowing harder and Percy squeezes her hand. She squeezes back, equally as hard. Percy’s nails are digging into her hand and she is squeezing his fingers tightly between her knuckles. They are both trying to hurt the other, looking for a new pain to distract them.

When they let go there are bloody crescent moons ingrained in her skin but she doesn’t even notice the sting.

*

She finds Percy in his old cabin that night. He is sitting on the bed, staring at the wall. Annabeth sits down next to him.

“Hi.”

He doesn’t speak, but he nods, and somehow Annabeth is able to understand that this means _I can’t talk but I know you’re here and I appreciate you being here and I need you._ Annabeth knows this instinctively. Annabeth still knows him well enough to interpret his feelings with only a single nod. After a few minutes of trying to bore a hole into the wall, she finally speaks.

“You know this isn’t your fault, right?”

Percy laughs bitterly and without humour.

“He was coming to find me.”

“So what? Who’s to say this wouldn’t have happened anyway? And who’s to say he was even going after you at that point? Maybe he took a detour to go find an enchilada. You don’t know, Percy. There’s a million different things that contribute to every single second. You were one of those things, yes, but you were not the only one. Grover knew what he was doing. This isn’t your fault.”

He is silent for a few moments. Then he just repeats, “He was coming to find me.”

“Percy! Listen to me. You’re a great guy, and lots of people love you. And I know you only think this because you have a huge fucking guilt complex, but the earth does not revolve around you. You are not the sole reason behind anything. You are not responsible for holding the word on your shoulders. You’ve already tried that, and it almost killed you.”

Percy reaches out and she lets him hold her hand. His hand is clammy and he clutches at her fingers as if they’re preventing him from drowning.

“I hadn’t seen him in so long. We were both so busy… I kept postponing…”

“Grover understood you better than anyone. Even before the empathy link. He loved you, and he understood. Stop blaming yourself, Percy. People have lives that don’t involve you. Not everything is about you. I don’t mean that in a mean way, Percy. All I’m saying is that you have nothing to feel guilty about.”

Percy still doesn’t answer. “You don’t have to believe me. Just don’t kill yourself, putting all the responsibility of Grover’s death on your shoulders. Not even a god can survive that.”

Silence again, but he doesn’t let go of her hand, and she tries to ignore the fact that his sweaty palm pressed to hers is keeping her grounded.

“Are you staying tonight?”

“Yeah.” She doesn’t have the heart to go back to the Hunters, not now.

“So where will you stay? In Artemis’ or Athena’s cabin?”

“Artemis’. I’m a Hunter. That’s where me and Thalia belong.”

He nods, swallows. She watches his Adam’s apple bounce. “Will you stay for a bit?”

She opens her mouth to say _no,_ to say _I can’t, I’m not supposed to have anything to do with you,_ but what comes out of her mouth is “Of course.”

*

When she wakes up Percy is sitting in the exact same position. She doesn’t remember falling asleep. She doesn’t even remember feeling tired.

“Morning.”

“Have you moved?”

He shakes his head. Annabeth is about to say something when she hears Thalia calling her name.

“Shit. Shit. I can’t believe – shit. I should not be here anymore. Shit.”

She gets up to leave but he reaches out to grab her arm. “Don’t go. Please.”

“Percy –” She doesn’t know how to act, seeing Percy like this. “Percy, I can’t stay. You know that. I’m sorry.”

He nods and looks at her. His eyes are sad but he forces a smile for her benefit anyway.

“Yeah. Course. Sorry. And don’t worry, I’ll vouch for you if it looks suspicious, a Hunter of Artemis doing the walk of shame back from the cabin of a god.” His words are joking but his voice betrays how sad he is.

“How is this a walk of shame?”

“You’re wearing the same clothes.”

“I’m always wearing these clothes.”

Annabeth doesn’t know how to end this. She doesn’t know how to say goodbye. Not in a situation like this. Finally she settles with the most simple one, although it leaves her feeling empty, alone, and unfulfilled.

“Goodbye, Percy.”

*

Her and Thalia are quiet almost the whole way back.

“Where were you?” Thalia finally asks, although she already knows the answer.

“I fell asleep in the Poseidon Cabin. Nothing happened,” she adds defensively.

“I know. I never thought it would. How was he?”

“He thinks it was his fault.”

“Of course he does.”

They are holding hands. Neither of them had seen Grover for years and years and years, and Annabeth misses him terribly. She had seen him once, near the beginning, and he had hugged her tightly, explaining all he was doing and his plans. He told her she looked good and then they had parted, both too busy to do anything more than exchange a few quick words.

“It doesn’t make you any less of a Hunter, the way you feel about him.”

“I don’t feel that way anymore.”

“I’m not going to argue with you.”

“Do you remember that time Grover ate your shirt?”

Thalia laughs. “I had two changes of clothes and he ate one of them.”

“He was so stressed out he hadn’t even realized he’d done it.”

They continue like this, holding hands and talking of Grover, and soon Annabeth is crying, remembering all the things Grover had done, telling Thalia of everything she had done with him while Thalia was a tree, and she can feel her heart mending itself as stories of Grover begin filling it once again.

**VI.**

A few more years pass. Artemis tells her, the same way she had told her about her father. She isn’t sure how Artemis finds out about these things, if Hades sends her emails every time someone close to Annabeth is about to kick the bucket. She is grateful and yet not.

Nico is old to begin with, but he is especially older when you remember to add another 70 or so years on. When Annabeth arrives he looks about 90, but she knows that a birth certificate would probably put him somewhere around 150. He is older than her still, in numbers and in looks.

Not for long.

When asked how he was feeling, Nico had replied “old.” For a dying man, he seems to be in an oddly good mood. In fact, Annabeth thinks this is the happiest she’s ever seen Nico.

Percy is there, and he looks absolutely horrendous. Nico, she realizes, is his last friend, really. She had thought losing Grover had been bad, and it had been, especially the unexpectedness of it. But 16 year old Percy next to old man Nico is once again hitting home the hugeness of their immortality, and Nico is his last link to the human world.

“Would you all stop looking so sad? You’ve been complaining of my skulking around like death for years. I finally get the chance to do it properly and it’s like you’re at a funeral. I’m not dead yet.”

Percy is very clearly trying not to cry. Annabeth had never been close to Nico, and truth be told she had always had the feeling that he didn’t like her. But it is only her and Percy with him now. Years ago Nico had met someone named Jason, who was the complete opposite of Nico in almost every way – but sometimes those are the best relationships. She assumes he died years ago, since there doesn’t seem to be any evidence of another person in Nico’s home. Now it appears that she and Percy are the only ones who are left. Nico had always been a loner, but she can’t help but feel like this is extra depressing. She had barely even known Nico.

“You’re taking this well,” she says, when it’s clear that Percy is unable to speak. Nico, lying back in bed, shrugs.

“I’m okay with dying. I’m not afraid of it. I’ve been around death my whole life. It’s literally in my blood.” Annabeth smiles a bit. “I’ve spent so much time in the Underworld, I’m practically VIP. Most people are afraid of death because it’s so unknown. But I know. There’s nothing to be afraid of. Besides,” he smiles, and she realizes with a start that this is the first time she has ever seen Nico smile, really smile. “I can see Jason. And my sister. I’ll get to see Bianca.”

Tentatively, Annabeth rests a hand on one of his wrinkled ones. She still hasn’t gotten used to seeing her friends so old, and now she’s out of opportunities to become accustomed to it. “I’m sorry I never knew you better.” Nico squeezes her hand, and it is only through his weak grip that he betrays anything is wrong. If she hadn’t have known better she wouldn’t even have known he was dying. She wonders if this has anything to do with his parentage or if he’s just trying extra hard to put on a brave face.

“You didn’t miss much.” He looks at Percy, who still hasn’t said a word. “Can I talk to him alone?”

Annabeth nods. “Goodbye, Nico.” Instinctively she knows this is the last time she will ever see Nico di Angelo. He smiles at her, and she basks in it, this Nico di Angelo smile, amazingly bright despite – or perhaps due to – its rarity.

Then she leaves. Nico was never hers to mourn.

*

“Hi.” When Percy speaks his voice is hoarse.

“Fuck. Who died?” Percy does not appreciate Nico’s humour. Nico, when he did joke around, was always like this, the kind of dry humour that only a child of death itself could accomplish. Percy used to relish Nico’s sense of humour, but now he does not find any aspect of this funny.

“C’mon, Percy. I’m the one who’s dying. You’re supposed to be trying to cheer me up.”

“You’re the last one. You are my last friend.”

Nico, to his credit, doesn’t misunderstand this as the sole reason Percy is upset. He and Percy were closer than he had ever believed he ever would be with anybody other than his sister.

“You have friends, Percy.”

He shakes his head. “Not like you.”

“I’m honoured, really. But I’m not that great. Never have been. Not like you. You’re a hero, Percy, and a god. You will always be surrounded by people who love you.”

“I’m alone now.”

“You’ve never been alone. You’re being melodramatic. Plus you still have Annabeth.”

Percy scoffs. “Annabeth hates me.”

“No she doesn’t. It’s just safer if she pretends she does. She’s fallen into the habit.”

Percy stares at Nico in wonder. “What happened to you not knowing jack shit about girls? Every time I tried to talk to you about it you would shadow jump away from me.”

Nico laughs, which abruptly turns into a coughing fit. Percy grabs a glass of water but Nico shoos it away. “It’s fine, it’s fine. It’s just a cough. Side effect of dying, I guess. Which is a side effect of being old.”

Percy’s eyes flick over Nico, looking small and frail in his bed. “You haven’t told me when you got to be such an expert on girls.”

“I don’t know. I guess in my old age I have transcended to fill the position of gay best friend that I avoided for so long.”

“Shut up.”

“I now have an innate understanding of girls and all four characters from _Sex and the City._ And your outfit doesn’t match.”

“Shut the fuck up. Fat lot of good that does me now.” Percy stops immediately, horrified, but Nico laughs.

“See. Tell me that doesn’t feel better than moping about and being sad.”

“It’s not right. I should be right there beside you.”

“Woah there, Percy. I had a crush on you seventy odd years ago. I’m flattered and all –”

“Gods, you’re annoying. I just mean – I should be old, too. Actually old, with grey hair and teeth that fly out of my mouth every time I laugh or cough.”

“Charming.”

“I shouldn’t have chosen this life, Nico. Nothing that extravagant and life changing should be offered to a 16 year old who just saved the world. I was on top of the world. Being a god seemed like the best thing that could have happened to me. I should be old and dying and happy and human, and Annabeth and me…”

“You have to talk to her.”

“She doesn’t want to be anywhere near me.”

“Weren’t you listening to me? I don’t believe for one second that Annabeth actually hates you. Use me, if you like. She can’t yell at you when your best friend just died.”

“I’m not using your death to guilt Annabeth into talking to me.”

“Your loss. I’m just saying you’re running out of chances, in terms of dying friends go.”

“Thanks for the reminder.”

“Listen to me, okay? Someone is always going to be the last one. Even if you hadn’t chosen to be a god, someone is still going to have to watch all their friends die. Someone is always going to outlive the others. Even if you were old and decrepit, who’s to say you wouldn’t be in this same exact position, just a lot less attractive?”

Percy’s smile this time is wide and real. “Have I ever told you you’re an asshole?”

*

Annabeth sticks around. She doesn’t want to admit that it’s for Percy, but she knows that it is. Regardless of how much she pretends to hate him, the look on his face as he stared down at Nico is ingrained into her brain, and she couldn’t have left him like that, even if she truthfully did hate him.

When Percy comes out of the room there are tears on his cheeks that he doesn’t even bother to wipe away. He looks so incredibly pathetic and sad, and Annabeth flashes back a couple of years (which doesn’t seem long at all, not anymore) to the outside of a hospital and Percy’s arm wrapped around her as she sobbed. She remembers their hands clasped together over the laurel that used to be Grover, and she finally understands that her and Percy are inextricably woven together, and there will always be things that bring them together. She looks at the grey streak in his hair. It might have faded, if they had aged the way they were supposed to, but forever frozen at 16 the streak remains, mirroring the one in her hair. She had spent almost a century trying to hate him, but now she suddenly understands that she can’t. It’s impossible for her to hate Percy Jackson.

Percy doesn’t even really seem to notice her until she reaches out to touch his arm. He jumps.

“You’re still here?”

“Yeah. I didn’t want to leave you alone. Is he…?”

Percy nods as more tears streak down his face. Annabeth doesn’t let go of his arm as she leads him to the couch. He follows her like a ghost. After a few moments of silence (she still hasn’t let go of his arm – her hand has slipped down to his hand, resting over top of it) she finally speaks.

“I’m sorry, Percy. I really am.”

“It’s over now, Annabeth. Any connection I had with our old world. It’s over.”

Annabeth doesn’t know what to say to this. Her thumb has started rubbing circles on his hand.

“I’m alone now. I have nobody left.”

“You were always so adamant that there was an us. What happened to that?” She doesn’t necessarily want to bring this up, but Percy looks so sad and she doesn’t know what had made him change his mind. Truth be told, she’s worried (although she would never admit it), that he has completely given up on her.

Percy wipes his eyes. “You hate me.”

For some reason hearing this, laid out so neatly in front of them, sounds incredibly wrong to her ears. She had tried to do just that, but hearing that, so blunt, sends a jolt through her. “I don’t hate you.”

“You do an excellent impression.”

“I’m not quite as good at it as you may think.”

Percy doesn’t say anything to this, but he seems to relax next to her. She is still holding his hand.

“Truth be told I’m tired of fighting against you, Percy. I’m tired of trying to keep the anger inside of me lit instead of letting it flicker out and die. We both made our decisions and it’s time to grow up. I don’t hate you and I never did. I just don’t like to be wrong.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

Percy had turned his hand around so now their palms are touching. “Nico lived a long life, Percy. And he was really happy. And living this long when you’re a demi-god is an exceptional feat.”

“I know. I guess I’m just being selfish. I know he’s lived a long time, and dying for him isn’t so much dying as taking a trip to your parents’ house.” She smiles. “But it doesn’t make me feel any better.”

They sit in silence for a while. Annabeth wants him to start talking, wants him to ask, now that she’s told him she doesn’t hate him, if they can start over, begin again, try to have some semblance of their former relationship again. But Percy was always the one who tried, and she knows it’s her turn now.

“Can we start over?”

He doesn’t look at her, and she can’t help but marvel at how strange it is, to have Percy avoiding her eye in embarrassment. She’s sure there must have been a time beforehand, when Percy had avoided her eyes, but she can’t remember anything that came before that day on Olympus, when he had accepted Zeus’ offer and she had pledged herself to Artemis.

“In what way?”

“I’m tired of pretending that we’re strangers. You’re – you were my best friend, Percy, and it’s stupid and childish to pretend otherwise. I want to be friends again. I –” she wants to tell him that she misses him, but she can’t make the words come out of her mouth. “I want us to be friends again.”

Percy smiles at her, and she can’t help but remember the feeling of him pressed beneath her. “That’s all I’ve wanted for years, Annabeth.”

She smiles and tries not to. “I’m glad.”

They don’t get a chance to talk after that, because someone who looks suspiciously like they live in the Underworld suddenly walks in, interrupting the awkward reunion.

“Um.”

The person (creature) doesn’t even look at them, just sweeps past them into the room where Nico had died. “I guess that’s whoever is here to take care of him.”

Percy nods. “Son of the god of the Underworld probably gets you special perks.” He lets go of her hand and stands up. She ignores the cold that seeps into her skin. “Come on. I think that’s our sign to leave.”

Annabeth finds herself squinting when she get back out into the sunlight.

“So what are you doing now?”

“Normally Apollo gives me a lift –”

“I bet he likes that. How many angry haikus have you heard?”

“I could publish a book of poetry with them all.”

Percy laughs and Annabeth does too. She turns to look at him, still squinting in the sunlight, studying his face as he stares out into nothing. She wonders how it can be that when she looks at him she sees the Percy Jackson she met so many years ago, who drooled in his sleep and held her as the Siren song filled her ears. Percy is still Percy but she feels like she’s lived a thousand different lives already. Infinity is stretching out long in front of her, and she’s nauseous just thinking of it.

“I guess it’s time to say goodbye, then, huh?”

Annabeth ignores the disappointment she feels when he says this. Instead she just nods, smiles at him, “Yeah, I guess.”

“It was really good to see you, Annabeth. Thank you, you know. For everything. And I’m – I’m glad we can start over. I missed you.” Before she can respond – possibly because he’s afraid she’ll tell him to piss off – he pulls her close to him, wrapping his arms around her waist. He hugs her tightly and Annabeth doesn’t even bother pretending she’s annoyed by this. She just hugs him back.

The hug lasts longer than it should but eventually Percy pulls away, smiling slightly at her. His eyes are bright and he looks happy, despite everything, and she tries to remember the last time she saw him happy, thinks it probably hasn’t been since that day on Olympus, when Zeus gave him the gift of immortality. She reaches up, wipes away a few stray tears that are still escaping. He looks surprised at her touch.

Her hands clamp down on his arms to prevent him from pulling away and she just has time to register the look of confusion in his eyes before she kisses him.

She doesn’t even realize what she’s doing until her lips are pressed to his and she can taste him, salt water on her lips. She hates that she keeps doing this. She had spent so long trying to hate Percy for becoming a god, for leaving them behind, but she’s the one who keeps doing this, keeps dredging up the past when they’re finally at the point where they can move on. The last time she had done this Percy had responded to her immediately, as if he had been ready, prepared and waiting for her to do this. This time he is motionless for a few moments, clearly caught off guard. He hadn’t expected her to do this. He had expected them to part as friends again, to start over. She’s the one who keeps doing this. She’s the one who keeps smearing the lines and then blaming him for it.

He does respond, though, and beneath the self-loathing that she is feeling she is soaring, happy that he still feels this, happy that even after all of this time he still wants this, still wants her. But beneath that is another layer of self-hatred, of disgust at herself, _you aren’t supposed to want this, you aren’t supposed to want him, you are a Hunter of Artemis._

Percy clutches at her as if expecting her to float away, his arms around her waist, bringing her impossibly close to him. His arms are tight on her, holding her in place as her hands rest on his neck. They kiss for an impossibly long time, reluctant to pull away and face reality, a hundred lifetimes of not being allowed to do this. But eventually Annabeth’s lungs start shrieking and she has to stop, has to pull her lips off of his.

Gasping for breath, Percy rests his forehead against hers. His eyes are closed but his arms are still wrapped tightly around her waist. “Annabeth.” His voice is hoarse and every part of Annabeth is telling her to kiss him again.

“Annabeth.” He says her name again, voice barely above a whisper, and she wants to kiss him, wants to trap her name in his mouth forever.

“You can’t keep doing this to me.”

 _You’re an idiot, Annabeth Chase,_ she thinks. _You ruin everything._

“I’m sorry.” She closes her eyes, afraid he’s going to open his, and if she sees those eyes she’s lost forever, Persephone in the Underworld, her pomegranate seeds, trapping her. She pulls herself away from him, ripping herself roughly out of his arms.

“Annabeth please –”

“I’m sorry. This was… ridiculous. I’m sorry about Nico, Percy, and I’m sorry about this, and I’m sorry for ever thinking we could be normal again. I’m leaving, for real now. We have no one left to lose and I never have to see you again.”

“Annabeth –”

“Goodbye, Percy.”

“Wait, please. Annabeth I lo –”

She runs. She refuses to let him finish that sentence, because if she doesn’t hear it she can pretend it never happened, and she can pretend she doesn’t feel the same.

*

After that Annabeth starts to build up walls. She is ashamed, disgusted at what she’s done, terrified of what will happen if Artemis finds out. She feels conflicted, unsure of whether she should tell her or not. She wants to be a Hunter, and she knows if she tells Artemis, the very least that will happen is that Artemis will take her immortality. Depending on her mood, she could do something much worse. She doesn’t want to stop being a Hunter. It’s the only thing she’s sure of. But she feels like she no longer deserves it. Like she can’t, with a clear conscience, call herself a Hunter of Artemis with all that she’s done.

So she stays quiet, and she hates herself for it. Thalia tries to reach out, tries to talk to her, but Annabeth avoids her, avoids almost everyone. She hates herself deeply, and hates herself even more for alienating herself from the only people she had left. But every time she talks to Thalia she is reminded of who she is, Artemis’ lieutenant, and Annabeth feels like she will never be able to measure up. So she keeps quiet, letting her self-hatred and shame burn her from the inside out.

“Happy birthday to you!” They all finish singing, clapping and cheering and smiling, and Annabeth’s cheeks are burning hotter than the fires of Tartarus and she wants nothing more than to sink into the ground.

**VII.**

She’s 100 today.

The Hunter’s birthday celebrations only come on Big Birthday’s – 50, 100, 500, and then every thousand years after that. There are very few people who reached the thousand year mark. Guiltily, Annabeth remembers Zoë Nightshade. She would have liked to be in the Hunter’s with her, she thinks. She can’t help but think Zoë’s death was partially her fault, all those years ago.

She had expressed, very clearly, that she did not want any birthday celebrations, but apparently no one had listened. The second last thing Annabeth wants is to be reminded of her age. The last thing Annabeth wants is to be reminded of her age so close to where she used to live.

They are set up in California and Annabeth has felt particularly lonely and homesick the entire time they were there. She had gone to see her old house, only to find that it didn’t even exist anymore – brand new condos are there instead. Annabeth had never had the best relationship with her father and step-mother, and even though they had sort of kind of mended their relationship, things still were never very smooth. But after so long it’s only the good memories that last. Annabeth even misses her annoying brothers.

 _All dead now,_ she thinks. Her father had died decades ago and her step-mother went shortly after. Matthew and Bobby went a few years ago, but she hadn’t gone to the funeral. They were both mortal, and all three of them had agreed, over the phone, that it was easier to avoid the awkward conversations her 16 year old body would bring about. Her family had never really understood her, but at least they had tried. She finds she misses them more than she ever thought she would.

 _All dead now._ Her friends are gone, too, Grover and Malcolm, even Nico. The only connection to her past life she had was Thalia. _And Percy,_ a part of her says, but even that is wrong. The Percy she knew before is a different Percy than the one she knows now. Or, more accurately, this Annabeth is different.

Regardless of the semantics, no semblance of her past life remains.

“Annabeth! Come on, there’s hot chocolate.”

She smiles at Phoebe, shaking her head. She walks past the tent where most of the girls are congregated. A new girl has joined, recently, a 14 year old named Kim, and they are sitting with her, drinking hot chocolate and laughing. It is one of the rare times when they actually act like teenaged girls. Thalia looks up at her suspiciously, but she pretends she doesn’t see.

She is walking on the beach, kicking her boots off. The sun is setting but she can still feel it beating down on her shoulders. The tide comes up to lightly slap at her feet, and she is grateful for the coolness of it, until it comes up again to nip at her ankles. She is starting to suspect something is up when a wave crashes completely over her. Sputtering, she tries to clamour onto higher ground, but another one hits her, rising over her head. She is soaked from head to toe. She is finally able to escape, running farther up the beach, watching as the water begins to recede again.

“Really fucking mature,” she shouts at it. “Drown me, I dare you. He will never forgive you.”

The tide rises the slightest bit before going back down again, the equivalent of a fake out lunge.

“This was him, you know. He started this. We wouldn’t be in this position if he wasn’t an idiot. So don’t blame me. This is not my fucking fault.” She wonders what this looks like to somebody who doesn’t  understand her situation, her life, a mortal out for an early evening walk. She wonders what this looks like to somebody who does understand. Crazy girl yelling at the water versus crazy girl yelling at Poseidon. She’s insane in both scenarios. A crazy 16 year old girl who’s been alive for 100 years. Her family is dead, almost all of her friends are dead, she is lonely and tired and Poseidon had just tried to drown her.

“It’s not my fucking fault!” She shouts again, picking a rock up from the beach and flinging it into the ocean.

“Immortality is a long, long time.”

She spins around. Thalia is standing behind her.

“I thought you might want some hot chocolate. It’s chilly for July,” she says, holding out a cup. Annabeth doesn’t take it.

“I don’t regret my decision.”

“You regret his.”

“My life doesn’t revolve around him. And his father just tried to drown me!”

“Over protective parents.”

“What does he need protecting from? I haven’t done anything.” But she knows this is a lie. She hasn’t told Thalia what she’s done, what she keeps doing. She can imagine Poseidon sitting on his throne under the sea, anger coursing through the waves. She probably deserves it. Kissing and blaming, kissing and blaming. A vicious cycle she can’t escape because she can’t stop kissing and she won’t stop blaming.

“Why does everyone question my loyalty?”

“I’m not, Annabeth. All I know is that forever is a long time, and I stopped pretending, a long time ago, that if things with Luke had turned out normally, the way they should have, that I would still be here.” Annabeth can remember when Thalia was invited to join the Hunters, when they were on the run. She remembers her turning it down with a glance at Luke, then she remembers years later, Thalia bowing before Lady Artemis, saying the words of the pledge confidently, shortly after pushing Luke off a cliff. Talk about closure. “I’m worried about you. I’m worried about your heart.”

Annabeth never got that closure.  Maybe if she got to push Percy off of a cliff she would feel better.

“My heart belongs to Lady Artemis.” She walks past Thalia, who is still holding out the cup of hot chocolate. Annabeth reaches out to grab it, her fingers grazing Thalia’s. She looks up to see her best friend staring at her with kind eyes, and she reminds herself of something Thalia had said to her, shortly after she had officially joined – _I’m on your side, Annabeth._ Thalia falls into step beside her, lacing her fingers through Annabeth’s.

“Happy birthday, Annabeth,” she whispers, and Annabeth squeezes her fingers.

*

Two weeks later Annabeth is getting changed out of sweat stained clothes when she notices a note on her bed. She glares at it for a few moments, contemplating whether she should open it or burn it. Her curiosity gets the better of her and she opens it up.

_Annabeth:_

_Please meet me tonight at midnight. I’ll leave you a trail to find me. I will wait all night for you if I have to._

It’s not signed, but it doesn’t have to be. Annabeth huffs in annoyance and rips the letter into as many pieces as possible.

 _I’ll leave a trail._ Like fucking Hansel and Gretel. _How dare he,_ she thinks. How dare he sneak into camp like this. He has no right.

Midnight comes and goes and she stays in bed, glaring at the walls of her tent. Three hours later she is still awake and glaring but her resolve is steadily depleting. Another hour and she is quietly sneaking out of camp.

Percy’s trail turns out to be scarves wrapped around trees, all of them blue. Annabeth struggles to hold back a smile that wants to escape at the sight of the colour. She unties the scarves as she passes, and by the time she reaches him, she has at least ten draped over her arms. Percy is sitting on a log and a huge smile erupts when he catches sight of her. She drops the scarves at his feet.

“Very inconspicuous, Percy. What were you going to do if I didn’t show up and a bunch of Hunters followed your trail?”

“I was going to take them down if you didn’t come. If you did, I figured you would remove them yourself. Which you did.”

Annabeth is incredibly annoyed at how well he still understands her.

“What do you want?”

“Happy birthday.”

“My birthday was two weeks ago.”

“I know. But I figured it would be less obvious if I did it afterwards.”

“Why? You haven’t made an effort for any birthday.”

“We’re 100 years old, Annabeth. It’s kind of a big deal.”

“ _I’m_ 100 years old. You’re not yet.”

“Two weeks, Annabeth.”

She smiles and then bites her cheek to stop. “Is that all? You just wanted to wish me a happy birthday?”

“I miss you.”

“I don’t want to start this again.”

“What about last time? You said we could go back to being friend’s again.”

“I was wrong.”

“You can’t expect us to stop completely, Annabeth. You have to see that isn’t working. Things keep pulling us back together.”

“No. Things have stopped pulling us back together. The universe has given up. You’re the one that keeps trying to force this.”

“Can you blame me?”

No. She can’t. She can’t because for a brief moment when she saw him, her heart flipped over, and she couldn’t help but glow a bit at the fact that he sat on a log for four hours waiting for her. And just like always, that store of anger that she keeps is running low, and she sits down next to him, keeping a healthy distance away but not enough that she can’t smell him, salt water and, for some reason, pretzels.

“Percy. Aren’t you tired of fighting? Aren’t you tired of trying so hard to get us back to something that’s impossible? This isn’t supposed to happen. We’re not supposed to be… we’re just not supposed to be together, in any way. Aren’t you tired?”

“Yeah. I’m exhausted. Have you ever tried arguing with you?”

She laughs through her nose. “Then why don’t you stop? Accept that it’s not going to work out. Maybe it’s because we fucked up or maybe it was just supposed to be like this but whatever the reason. Why don’t you give up?”

“Because I don’t want to. I can’t give up on you.”

If he meant this to sound romantic it has the opposite effect. Annabeth feels a surge of annoyance at his words and stands up.

“Stop it. Okay? I don’t want this. I’m tired, Percy. I want this to end. Everything that tied us to the other is done and there’s no reason to drag this out.”

“Annabeth –”

“No. Let me talk. We’re both adults, now, Percy. We can both admit that we had feelings for each other. What you want to label those feelings is up to you. But it’s done, now, Percy. I can’t do this anymore. We don’t have any other choice but to get over each other. I know you don’t want to, but we don’t have any other option. These are the lives we chose. It’s over, Percy. Please. Let it die. I’m tired of fighting. Let me get over you. Please.”

“I don’t want to get over you.” His voice is hoarse.

“Then don’t.” With great dismay she discovers she’s trying not to cry. “Hold onto it, if you want to, Percy, it doesn’t make a difference to me. But please let me be. I can’t do this anymore. It’s been 100 years and I’m exhausted, and forever is a long time. I don’t want to hate you, Percy, and I very obviously can’t. I want to part on good terms. But I want –” It’s a lie, so she rewords it. “I need to part. I can’t do this for the rest of my life.”

Percy’s eyes are bright with tears, but after a few agonizingly long moments he finally nods. “I don’t want to,” he says, and she nods, because truth be told she doesn’t truly want to either. “But I will. I have to. I don’t want to hurt you, Annabeth. That’s the last thing I want.” He stands up and she lets him put a hand on her cheek.

“We really fucked up, didn’t we?”

She nods because she can’t deny it. “Yeah, we did.” She pulls away before he can kiss her, or (she admits) before she kisses him, and she turns back on everything she just said. She doesn’t want to do this but she has to, because Percy Jackson is killing her. She stands away from him, reluctant to leave, to say goodbye, second guessing everything she’s said.

So it’s Percy who does it, Percy who smiles sweetly at her, Percy who says goodbye, and she is violently reminded why she loves him so much. She watches him walk away and she knows he’s in pain, knows that she’s killing him; she knows that he doesn’t want to do this but she watches as he does it anyway. Percy has done a lot for her but she knows this is the biggest. Walking away, saying goodbye. He would do anything for her, and only now is she truly understanding exactly what that means.

“I love you,” she whispers to the forest when he’s gone, because she never got to say it and now she won’t have another opportunity. “I’m sorry,” she chokes out, wondering if she’ll ever forgive herself.

**VIII.**

She doesn’t see him for 200 years.

At this point in her life the years were passing by much quicker, so it was sort of like she woke up one day and realized that this cold, empty feeling everywhere in her body was caused by Percy’s absence.

One day, about 100 years after they had parted, she went and sat by the ocean, dipping her feet in.

“Percy,” she calls quietly, barely more than a whisper. There is no response from the water, so Annabeth stands, reluctant to be away from the Hunters for too long in case they realized she had snuck away again. For 100 years a shell of Annabeth had been walking around, and they were starting to get suspicious, Thalia especially. Annabeth felt guilty whenever she looked at Thalia, to the point where the intensity of it hurt her, so to stop this she tried to avoid looking at Thalia whenever possible. The loneliness was choking her as she watched her best friend drift away, even though she knew it was her fault. Thalia was standing still. It was Annabeth who was drifting.

She stands up and wipes the sand off of her pants, but before she leaves she grabs a stick and bends down, writes in the sand _Annabeth was here,_ to let him know. To show him _I’m still here._

When Percy arrives the tide has washed her message away and Percy thinks he must be hearing things, so desperate to see her again that he’s making up her voice.

*

“You have to stop moping.”

“I’m not moping.”

Poseidon looks at him drily, which is impressive, considering they’re underwater.

“You’re moping.” This is Amphitrite, and Percy realizes that it _must_ be bad, because Amphitrite never pays attention to him, let alone speaks to him.

“You’re severely moping.” This is Triton, and Percy huffs.

“Okay, I get it, I’m moping. Geez.”

“Well then stop moping.”

“Gods, you’re right. Thanks, Triton, I can’t believe I never thought of that. I can see why you’re heir; only someone as brilliant and enlightened as you could possibly replace Dad.”

Triton scowls and Amphitrite glares. Poseidon hurriedly interrupts.

“Why don’t you take a vacation? Relax a little.”

“I don’t want a vacation.”

“You mistook that as a suggestion. Take some time off, Percy. Immortality is hard to get used to. Go explore the world above. It’s one you don’t know, not anymore. Discover who you are, now, after so many years. Come back when you’re ready. You still think of the world on human terms. Find out who you are as a god.”

Realizing he doesn’t have a choice, Percy concedes. As he passes Triton he smiles sweetly at his step brother. “I’ll miss you the most, Triton.” Triton scowls and Poseidon tries to hide his laughter, clapping his son on the shoulder as Percy passes him.

“When you’re ready, Percy. There’s no rush. We’re not exactly on a time limit.”

Percy forces a smile. He doesn’t want to ‘vacation’. He doesn’t want to figure out who he is. He knows who he is. He’s Percy Jackson, and he wants to stay Percy Jackson, god or not. But he doesn’t have a choice.

He’ll just have to mope on land.

*

Soon after he snaps. He had been staying at Camp Half Blood, hiding out in the Poseidon Cabin and avoiding everyone (“Are you going to stop moping?” “I’m not moping!”), but eventually he couldn’t take it.

It takes him a few months to find the Hunters, but when you’ve been alive for 300 years, a few months is nothing. He leaves another note on her pillow and then waits.

*

When Annabeth sees the note she doesn’t even really think.

It is not long, and Percy’s writing is so messy and scribbled that it’s hard to decipher.

_Annabeth. Come meet me. Please. I don’t care when. I’ll wait here as long as I have to._

_P.S. I ran out of scarves._

Annabeth goes, of course. There isn’t really any other option.

*

There is toilet paper wrapped around tree branches. Annabeth almost laughs. She tears it down and stuffs it in her pocket, so by the time she gets to Percy her pockets are bulging.

“You came.” His eyes are bright.

“Yeah.”

Percy stands up. He looks unsure of himself, but when he speaks, his words are firm and confident.

“My dad sent me on… vacation. He said I was moping too much.”

“Were you?”

“Apparently. Personally I think I was moping the appropriate amount considering the situation.”

“Which was?”

“That I’m in love with you and I hadn’t seen you in 200 years.” He says this so matter-of-factly that all Annabeth can do is blink. “So he sent me up here. To figure myself out, he said. He said that I still understood the world as a human, and that I needed to learn how to understand it as a god. To find out who I am, as a god.”

He stops, and Annabeth thinks he’s waiting for her to speak. “And did you?”

“No. Because I realized I didn’t want the two to be separate. I didn’t want to be two different people, Percy Jackson the mortal and Percy Jackson the god. I didn’t want to change. I wanted to be the same Percy Jackson who helped save the world from Kronos, who held up the world and ate blue food, who tried to save the world and his friends at the same time.”

“The one who drooled in his sleep.” She smiles the littlest, and he takes this as a sign to step closer.

“Yeah. That one. I didn’t want to separate myself from him. From the Percy who was Grover’s friend, the Percy that met you and loved you and refused to admit it, the one who thought of you to bring me back from the Styx. I still want to be that Percy. I want to be my mother’s Percy, and Grover’s, and Nico’s and Paul’s and yours. I don’t want to be a god, but if I can’t change that, I at least want to be Percy. My father wanted me to stop moping. I think when he told me to find out who I was as a god, he wanted me to leave my mortal life behind. And maybe that’s what I should do, because all of those people, all of my friends, are dead, and it hurts. And maybe if I tried to leave them behind, in a hundred years, or two hundred, or whatever, maybe it won’t hurt anymore. But I want it to. I don’t want to leave them behind. I want to be Percy.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I can’t be Percy without you.” He steps forward again, and Annabeth doesn’t move, frozen to the ground. He’s right in front of her, now, and Annabeth can smell him, and he’s so close, and gods, she’s missed him. Percy puts a hand on her cheek, the way he did when he said goodbye to her, but this time he doesn’t leave, this time he pulls her towards him and kisses her, and she doesn’t even pretend to be annoyed, doesn’t even bother to pretend that this isn’t exactly what she wants. Percy moves his hands to cup her neck and she clutches at the back of his shirt. His kisses are hurried, frantic, like he’s afraid any moment he will have to stop, and Annabeth responds in the same kind of frenzy. This isn’t like the last kiss, at Nico’s death. This is more like the very first on Olympus, almost three centuries ago, desperate and consuming and _hot,_ but multiplied tenfold, two hundred and eighty years of sexual energy and tension spilling out faster than they can react. Somehow Annabeth’s shirt is off, the September air biting at her skin, but she barely feels it, only feels the burning of Percy’s touch as his hands travel everywhere over her body. They are both undressed before she even realizes she is taking his clothes off, and she is on the ground, Percy hovering over her, his entire body touching hers and his mouth sucking at the place where her neck meets her shoulder. Annabeth can barely think straight, and the burning below her stomach is starting to drive her insane. She spreads her legs and Percy falls between them, her nails scraping along his back and his sides as he brings his lips back to hers, tongue in her mouth. Percy’s fingers travel down between her legs, rubbing at her clit, and she gasps, hips bucking and moaning into his mouth. In the back of her mind she is worried about the Hunters, worried someone will notice that she’s missing and come find her, worried they’ll come across this clearing and see her on the forest floor, naked legs wrapped around Percy Jackson’s waist. But amazingly, this fear isn’t enough to make her go _okay Annabeth, you can’t do this, it’s not allowed, get up and leave._ On the contrary, the logical part of her must have taken a brief nap, because the only thought that goes through her mind is _better be quick about this._

“Percy… Percy –”

“What?” He raises his head, his eyes clouded and his cheeks red. “Do you want… do you want me to stop?”

“Does it look like I want you to stop?”

“I don’t know! You are kind of the Queen of Mixed Signals.”

“No, I don’t want you to stop.” She drags his lips back to hers to accentuate her point. “I want you to hurry the fuck up.”

So he does, as fast as two 300 year old virgins can possibly go. Percy carefully puts a finger inside of her, which feels amazing, but then he moves it the wrong way, which causes her to yelp in pain, so he immediately wrenches away, “Oh gods oh gods I’m sorry what did I do oh gods are you okay –” And she has to forcibly work his fingers back into her because he’s too afraid of hurting her after that. Percy’s fingers are gentle as they probe inside of her, and she knows this is necessary because 300 years is a _long time_ but gods, all she wants right now is to fast forward through the foreplay because she can feel Percy pressing hard against her thigh and she thinks it might drive her insane. She tries to shift but ends up kneeing him in the stomach, and he lets out an “Oomph” and accidently yanks her hair.

“This is a mess,” he looks embarrassed, but Annabeth just laughs and kisses him, “What did you expect, Seaweed Brain?”

Annabeth knows herself very well and she knows that when she comes down from this, when her brain is able to win out over the intense horniness that is lighting her on fire right now, she is going to regret this, and she is going to be angry, and she is most likely going to cause a fight. She knows this without a doubt.

She doesn’t care.

When Percy is finally inside of her she gasps and he pulls back, worried, and she rolls her eyes and pulls him back, “Gods, Percy, you’re so jumpy.” It hurts, but not in the way she thought it would, and only for a moment. She isn’t even sure if she would call it pain – it’s more so that it’s so unknown, a surprise feeling of _oh, this is new._ Percy goes agonizingly slowly and she’s sure if this were happening in any other lifetime she would be touched at how careful he was being, how determined he was to not hurt her. But right now all she wants him to do is fuck her, and she tells him that, growling angrily in his ear. He listens, of course, partly because he wants the same and partly because Annabeth terrifies him, kissing her hard as he fucks her. Annabeth is sweating, unsure what is hers and what is Percy’s, their skin sticking together. They are completely entwined, locked together, and the feeling of Percy inside of her is making her dizzy, like she’s flying.

She doesn’t come, which Percy apologizes profusely for, but she shuts him up with a kiss, anxious not to come back to reality, hoping the taste of him will keep her soaring. He keeps talking, keeps apologizing, keeps offering to do more, but she shuts him up with a glare.

“Shut the fuck up,” she tells him, so he listens, lying back next to her. Suddenly cold without him on top of her, Annabeth turns towards him, butting her forehead against his shoulder.

“I have to go back,” she whispers, and Percy turns on his side so he’s facing her, his forehead against hers.

“No you don’t.”

“Okay.” She’s too tired to argue. Instead she closes her eyes; her last thought before drifting off is _you’re going to regret this when you wake up._

*

She does.

She doesn’t sleep through until the morning, thank the gods, but she sleeps long enough. Percy is passed out beside her and she gets up, carefully lifting his arm off of her, hoping to escape without waking him up.

No luck.

He opens his eyes and blinks at her, looking really, infuriatingly cute. A happy smile creeps across his face and Annabeth looks around hurriedly for her shirt.

“Hi.”

She doesn’t answer, just keeps gathering her clothes, and Percy slowly begins to realize that something is not right. He gets up and throws on his pants, but he doesn’t put his shirt on immediately, which Annabeth finds very distracting.

“Annabeth? Are you okay?”

She finds her bra, debates just shoving it in her pocket, but decides that would be too obvious, so she hurriedly puts it on instead. She doesn’t line up the clasps properly but she doesn’t care, throwing her shirt on and starting to search for her pants.

“We could meet again, maybe. Set a date and time, or –”

“No, Percy.” Her voice comes out angrier than she had expected or intended, and he stops immediately. She hasn’t found her pants yet and he can’t stop looking at her thighs. “No. I’ve had enough of this.

“This is what I want. This is what I chose. This is where I want to be. Would you please come down off your high Pegasus to see that? I’m not some sad teenager who chose immortality in the hopes I would get a kiss every fucking century. I’m a Hunter of –” she stops, evidently hesitant to use Artemis’ name. “I’m a Hunter. And I want to be one, whether you believe me or not. Thalia once said that if things hadn’t turned out the way they did, with Luke, she wouldn’t be here, and I’m willing to bet the same is true of us. But I feel like this is what I’m supposed to do. I love every second of my life. And it is not fair that you keep coming back, swooping in on me. Because you’re home free, aren’t you? There are no consequences for you. You can just barrel on forward without thinking about who you might be hurting. Becoming a god without thinking about me, or Grover, or the rest of your friends. Fucking me in the forest even though I’m the one who gets shit on if we get caught. I want to be a Hunter. I am a Hunter. Get over it.”

Percy has spent a lot of time thinking about that day, and he knows he rushed into that decision. He knows things would be different if he had just thought about it. He remembers purposefully avoiding looking at Annabeth, knowing if he did he would be brought back to reality and at that moment, at that bright, shining moment of saving the world, he wanted to bask in the glory of victory. He likes being a god, really, but not as a full time job. This is not the life he should be leading.

But still.

“You do not get to put this all on me, Annabeth. You wanna talk about high pegasi, why don’t you hop on down here for a bit so you can learn how to take responsibility for your actions. You kissed me, all those years ago, do you remember? I never would have done that, because I didn’t want to put you in that position, because I thought you didn’t want to. You started this, not me. And it was you, again, who kissed me when Nico died. It takes two to tango, Annabeth, and it takes two to fuck, and yeah, I sought you out this time, I kissed you, fine. But you were the one who started this. I would have accepted our fates if you hadn’t done that. I’m not saying this is all on you, Annabeth, but don’t go around blaming me because you don’t want to focus on the fact that you broke your word. You are not a powerless victim. This is not ancient mythology, the poor virgin who is taken advantage of by the mighty god. This is modern day mythology, and you kissed me.

“I know that you’re a good Hunter. I know you love it, and I know you don’t regret your decision. But it’s been 284 years and I have thought about you every single day. I still feel the exact same way as I did when I was 16, and you were just naked beneath me so I have to assume you feel the same. That’s gotta mean something, Annabeth. I’ve never really properly said it but I love you. And I’m sorry we’re in this position, and I’m sorry, gods am I sorry, that I took Zeus up on his offer. But don’t try to place the blame on me. This is on both of us.”

Her eyes had closed when he told her he loved her and now she slumps back down to the ground, knees pulled up and her face pressed to them. He can see the polka dots of her underwear. He sits next to her and pulls her towards him, and she lets him, resting her head on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry. I’ve tried for so long to make myself hate you, so maybe this would be easier. I thought if I blamed you enough maybe I would start to believe it. I know this is my fault as much as yours. Maybe even more. You loaded the bullet but I fired the gun, so to speak.”

“Let’s agree on 50/50.”

She laughs, smiling the slightest into his shoulder. “Okay.”

“Maybe she won’t know. I mean, it’s not like she has an alarm that starts going off every time a hymen gets broken.”

“That’s not – that’s not how that works, but regardless. I’m going to tell her.”

“What?”

“I’m sick of pretending this is everybody’s fault but mine. It’s time to start owning up to my mistakes.”

“Don’t. Please. Please Annabeth, don’t tell her. You love this. You’re good at it. This is who you’re supposed to be. Don’t let me ruin it.”

She looks at him funny before lifting her face up and bringing her lips to his. It’s a gentle kiss, one he can barely feel, but her hand is clamped down tightly on his arm. “We both know this is not who I’m supposed to be. This is not who either of us are supposed to be.”

“You won’t be a Hunter anymore. She’ll kick you out. At the least. At the most…”

“I have to do this, Percy. She’s been so kind to me. She’s given me a home. I can’t lie to her. I never could.” She stands up but he grabs her hand, dragging her back down to kiss her deeply, and Annabeth forces herself to step away from him before the burning in her groin takes over the logical part of her brain and she takes off all the clothes she had just put back on.

“Find me later, Percy. I’m sure I’ll need it.”

“I’m sorry –”

Another kiss. Now that she’s started she can’t seem to stop. “Don’t apologize for something I started.”

“I will not let you take all the blame for this.”

She smiles. She finds her pants, finally, and slips them on. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a slip of paper, placing it in his hand. “Goodbye, Percy,” she says, walking away, and she wonders if she’ll ever get to say hello to him again, or if the rest of their lives will be spent with her walking away.

When she’s gone he unfolds the paper. After so many years the ink is faded and hard to read, but he immediately recognizes it, because he wrote it.

_I won’t forget._

*

Annabeth gets back to camp with sex hair and a guilty look on her face. A few of the Hunters smile at her but most seem to realize something is up. She keeps her head down and avoids everyone’s eyes, making her way straight to Lady Artemis’ tent.

Artemis does not look happy when Annabeth goes to see her, and the way she looks at her makes her think maybe Artemis already knows.

“Lady Artemis,” she says, bowing her head.

“Annabeth.”

The words refuse to leave her mouth. Her throat is heinously dry and she would kill a man for a glass of water.

“I, uh…” _Straighten up, Annabeth, you can do this. You’ve faced worse than this._

Give her Kronos any day.

“Lady Artemis. I have failed you once again. I accept any form of punishment you wish to give me. I have… me and Percy…”

Artemis holds up her hand. “I believe I get the picture.”

Annabeth is smoldering under the goddess’ gaze. This is it, she thinks. Artemis is going to kill her. She’s going to turn her into a bear. And Annabeth will accept it.

Artemis doesn’t speak for a long time and Annabeth is sweating like crazy. When she finally speaks, Artemis is calm.

“Annabeth. When I asked you if you were certain about this, you were adamant that you were. Twice, in fact. I forgave you the first time. And this is how my kindness is repaid?”

Annabeth concentrates, trying hard to suck her tears back in. She will not cry. She will accept this stoically. She will stand tall. Like a Hunter.

The tears fall anyway. She’s not a Hunter.

“Yes, my lady. I am sorry. Words cannot describe how sorry I am.”

Artemis’ gaze is steely. “Then do not try. Do not waste your words and do not waste my time.”

Annabeth looks at the ground. Artemis is silent for a few minutes, but she doesn’t dare look up. When Artemis speaks again her words fly at Annabeth, cutting her to her very core, leaving scratches on her skin.

“I am soft, Annabeth Chase. Three thousand years and I am soft.

“You have five minutes to gather your things and get out. Take only what you yourself brought. Do not take any Hunter gear. If I see you after that, I will not be as forgiving.” She is silent, and Annabeth looks up. The look in Artemis’ eyes is odd. Almost like sadness. Almost like regret. But her words do not match her eyes. “Now get out.”

Artemis’ words and her eyes tear Annabeth apart, and the loathing that Annabeth feels for herself feels stronger than anything she has ever felt before.

“Yes, my lady.”

And with that she leaves, running to collect her things. She doesn’t think she has time to change out of her Hunter gear, but Artemis had clearly stated she was to leave all evidence of her life as a Hunter behind. She steps out of her gear and hurriedly climbs into the only street clothes she had kept, a pair of jeans and an old, faded Camp Half Blood shirt from so long ago. They are tight and constricting on her skin and she feels like she can’t breathe.

Thalia is not here. Thalia doesn’t know anything, and she will come back and Annabeth will be gone and she will hate her.

And Annabeth will deserve it.

**IX.**

Percy finds her in Central Park. She is sitting on a bench throwing bread crumbs at pigeons. He sits down next to her but she doesn’t look at him.

“How did it go?”

“About how you’d expect.”

“At least she didn’t blast you to bits.”

She smiles half-heartedly. “Yeah. I guess there’s always a bright side.”

They sit in silence for a bit. Annabeth runs out of bread crumbs and the pigeons fly off in annoyance. Percy is about to say something – what, he isn’t sure, but something to break the silence – when she speaks instead.

“Everything is so different. It’s all changed so much. The people and the atmosphere – there was a hot dog vendor here who used to give me free soda all the time if no one was looking. He was probably a pervert, but still. He’s been dead for centuries, by now.”

Not entirely sure what to say to this, Percy stays silent.

“We’re so old, Percy. I don’t know how they do it. The gods. I haven’t even made it 300 years and I can’t stand it. I’m exhausted. I stop and think about how everything has changed but then I realize it’s probably just me. I’m old and bitter and prattling on about the good old days while yelling at kids to get off my lawn.”

“You don’t have a lawn.”

“Metaphorically.”

Silence settles over them again, their shoulders touching. A woman pushing 80 smiles at him and he smiles back, all the while thinking _I’m old enough to be your great grandfather times, like, ten._ He understands what Annabeth is saying. When he was 16 immortality had seemed like the greatest gift imaginable, but now forever stretches out before him, cold and unforgiving and lonely. He can understand, now, why the gods are the way they are. He imagines living ten times longer than he already has and is suddenly very forgiving of the old coots.

“You didn’t have to tell her. She probably wouldn’t have found out. You could have pretended.”

“I would have been lying.”

“You knew this would happen. At the very least. At worst you could have been blown to pieces.”

Annabeth shrugs apathetically. “Maybe I wanted this to happen.”

“You said this was what you wanted. What you chose.”

“No, this was the second option. The back-up plan.”

“You were so adamant about this. I believe you told me to ‘get over it,’ if I recall correctly.”

Annabeth looks down in embarrassment. “It was. At some point. Honestly. At one point I thought I was meant to be a Hunter, that it was my sole purpose. But not anymore. And this isn’t even about you anymore, Percy. It’s not about us. I’m just tired. I underestimated immortality. I was just too ashamed to admit my mistake. I was so determined to show that my decision wasn’t about you that I forgot that it was for me.” Annabeth slumps against him and he pushes his lips to her forehead in an incredibly domestic way, and for a moment he’s worried she’s going to push him away, to shout _you’re why I’m here, get the fuck away from me,_ but instead she just closes her eyes and he thinks that maybe it will be okay.

“I’m sorry, Percy.”

“You’ve apologized enough. We both have.”

“It just feels like the only thing I can say.”

“You can say other things, too.”

“Like what?”

“I missed you.” He pauses. “I love you.”

She buries her face into his neck. “Where am I going to go now?”

Percy peppers kisses along the top of her head and feels her breath come out in a heavy exhale against his neck. “Home.”

*

He offers her Poseidon’s cabin, which is currently unoccupied, but she shakes her head. “I’ll stay in my mother’s cabin, where I belong.”

“It’s all going to be people you don’t know. Rumours will spread. Disgraced ex-Hunter returns after forbidden tryst with the gods.”

“That makes it sound like there were multiple gods.”

“You’d fit into the old stories better.”

Percy helps her dump what little she owns in a bed in the Athena cabin and then, eager to avoid the stares, they escape to Poseidon’s, Annabeth casting a mournful glance at the empty Artemis cabin. She sits down, her shoulders slumped. Percy catches sight of a few people outside, craning their necks to try to get a glimpse, and he resists the urge to try to see if his blasting skills have improved before closing the door.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“It was your idea.”

“That was before…” Before he realized how conspicuous it was to escort a Hunter of Artemis in shame back to her mother’s cabin. Before he realized that the Camp Half-Blood that was home to him wasn’t the same as this one, that home was the people there and not the camp itself. He thinks of Grover and Nico, Luke and Clarise, Silena Beauregard and Michael Yew, and the world weighs down on his old, brittle bones.

“What other option do I have?”

“I don’t know. I could find you a place to stay. Pull some strings.”

She shakes her head. “No. This is where I’ll stay for now.”

Percy knows she’s thinking the same thing he is. She’ll need a job, a college degree, and how do you explain that you finished high school with honours almost three centuries ago? And what about past employment? ‘ _Yes, you’ll find I have great references among the gods and goddesses of Mount Olympus, which I redesigned, by the way.’_ And then there’s something else, something he’s trying to avoid but can’t completely.

Soon, Annabeth will turn 17, and then 18, and then 19 and 20, and Percy will forever be frozen, a 16 year old boy in love with a woman who will be, eventually, old enough to be his mother, his grandmother. He remembers clutching her hand at Grover’s funeral, remembers her sobbing into his chest when Malcolm died, remembers her lips on his and her hands, fingers gently wiping away his tears outside of the room where Nico had died. He remembers the intense feeling of loss and pain he had felt, watching people he loved die, and the comfort he felt knowing Annabeth was still there, even if she hated him. He couldn’t watch Annabeth die. He wouldn’t survive it.

But the scariest part is that he knows he would have to.

“What are you thinking about?” Her voice is soft and her hand is on his knee. He forces a smile.

“Nothing really.” She knows he’s lying but she doesn’t push it, for which he is grateful.

“Thank you,” she says eventually. “For helping with all this.”

“It was kind of half my fault.”

She laughs. “Good point.”

There’s a million different emotions flowing through him right now. He wants to hold her, wants to protect her, wants to yell at Artemis and blow up those kids who were whispering, but he also wants to stop, wants to admit _I am so completely lost right now,_ wants her to laugh at him, _c’mon, Seaweed Brain, it’s obvious,_ wants her to fix things while he chastises himself, _gods, that_ was _obvious._ He wants to go back in time, to that day, wants to slap himself in the face, _you’re being an idiot, look at Annabeth, stop ignoring the fact that leaving her will kill you._ But mostly, right at this moment, he really wants to kiss her again. Wants to forget.

“I can smell smoke, Seaweed Brain. Don’t hurt yourself, thinking so hard.”

Seaweed Brain.

He’s about to say something, anything, really, just to take his mind off of her lips and her hand which, he thinks, definitely started on his knee, but before he can talk Annabeth grabs him, just like the first time, so many years ago. She pushes against him, her tongue in his mouth and her fingernails digging into his thigh. A feeling of relief is spreading through him, the most beautiful feeling filling his heart, the feeling of Annabeth again. In the forest they were wild fire, burning out of control, obliterating everything before sputtering out, dying and leaving everything else around them destroyed. Then they had all the time in the world but they rushed. Now, in the face of Annabeth’s mortality, they are slow, learning what they didn’t know and relearning everything they had forgotten. Annabeth’s taste and scent and the feel of her are overwhelming him, and he is not satisfied, not yet, not after so many years. It’s almost like the forest didn’t count, like this is the first time, slow and drawn out, revelling in the things he missed the first time around. Annabeth’s hands are in his hair, pulling it lightly, maneuvering so she is sitting on his lap. He is – embarrassingly – painfully hard already, but right now all he wants is to kiss her, to go slow, to drag this out as long as possible. Percy feels like he is in slow motion, his shirt tugged up over his head and Annabeth’s mouth sucking at his neck. He undoes her bra through her shirt and then realizes he’s missed a step. She takes her shirt off and then slides her bra off of herself, smirking against his lips at his fumbling hands. She tears her lips off of his, sucking in air desperately, and he moves his mouth to her collarbone, desperate to leave a mark, to say _hey, it’s been 284 years and she still wants me._

“I never said –” He cuts her off with his mouth, afraid she is going to say something he doesn’t want to hear.

“Percy –”

He kisses her again, harder, and she smiles against his lips.

“I love you. And I missed you.”

“That’s horribly cliché.”

“Fine, that’s the last time I tell you, asshole.” But she laughs and Percy is on top of the world. They ignore everything else, ignore how fucked Annabeth is and that he’s probably going to have to watch her die. None of it matters, not right now. Annabeth wraps a hand around him and he hisses at how cold her touch is, biting down on her shoulder. She lets out a small moan that lights him on fire and Annabeth, apparently tired of how long he’s taking, kicks off her pants and guides him into her, and Percy thinks this is probably the greatest feeling in the world, with Annabeth all around him and the knowledge that neither of them are going to regret this when they come down from this high.

She comes this time, which leaves him feeling quite pleased with himself. Afterwards she rolls off him, short for breath, and he misses the feeling of being inside of her immediately. Annabeth falls on her back, struggling to catch her breath, and he rolls over, burying his nose in her neck and inhaling the smell, a mixture of sex and sweat and Annabeth. He drapes an arm over her stomach.

“Well,” she says finally. “I guess there really is no turning back now.”

“Guess you’re stuck with me forever,” he grins into her neck. Annabeth suddenly stiffens.

“No, Percy. Not forever.”

*

Annabeth waits until long after dark to leave, eager to sneak back when most people were asleep. Percy is loath to let her go.

“Come with me.”

“Again, this was your idea.”

“Yes, but my ideas are never good. You know that. Never listen to my ideas.”

Annabeth smiles. “It’s okay Percy. I’ll be all right. Go back to your pineapple under the sea.”

“Did you just make a Spongebob Squarepants reference?”

Annabeth laughs, then abruptly stops. “None of these kids probably know what Spongebob even is.”

“Come with me,” he tries again, softer this time. Annabeth’s smile is sad.

“I’ll be all right. This is just… in between. Until I sort things out.” Neither of them say what they are both thinking, that who knows how long it will be until that happens, and then what? Annabeth is 300 years old and alone, but she puts on a brave face. “Come visit, all right?”

“You couldn’t keep me away.” He kisses her, long and hard and eager, pulling her to him, a hand in her hair. And then he leaves, looking back the whole way, and he doesn’t understand how Orpheus did it, how he could make it all the way out of the Underworld. Percy doesn’t think he could have made it ten steps.

*

Annabeth is a pariah for all of about 45 minutes. Then the Aphrodite cabin finds her.

“That is soooo romantic,” Kourtney, a 13 year old laden down with tacky jewellery, is quick to say, while Aaron, a 16 year old boy with a lip piercing chimes in, “So you were a virgin for 300 years? Tragic.”

“Where did you all hear this?” Annabeth asks shakily. She hadn’t spoken to anyone about anything.

“Oh, it’s everywhere. Everybody knows.”

“Great.” Of course they do. Annabeth wants to sink into the ground.

“Mom would love you,” Kourtney says dreamily.

“Your mother has interfered quite enough in my life, thank you.”

Suddenly everyone around her is silent.

“You’ve met Aphrodite?” Aaron is not so confident now. Now he just looks like a lost little boy.

Annabeth nods. “Um. Briefly. A few times.” She hadn’t had much interaction with Aphrodite on Olympus. The only time she had ever seen her was when she was complaining that her nose was too big on her statues. She mostly means Aphrodite’s promise to Percy, which she had only just found out about – that she would make his love life complicated. Well, complicated was certainly a word for it.

“What was she like?” Annabeth doesn’t know the name of this girl, a girl of about 9 with pretty eyes.

“She was… um…” She doesn’t really have a word for it. She’s interrupted by a quiet voice, coming from a girl in her late teens Annabeth hadn’t even noticed. She is dressed as though she had done so in the dark and sits away from her siblings, nose buried in Plato’s _Republic._ Annabeth is impressed.

“What does it matter? Who cares what she’s like?”

The 9 year old fires back, “She’s our _mom!”_

The older girl scoffs. “Some mother. The goddess of love and she can’t even love her own children.” And suddenly Annabeth understands this girl, understands the messy bun and no makeup, the book she reads and the way she distances herself from her siblings, trying to ignore every part of her that is Aphrodite. She tries to remember the last time she saw her mother – years and years ago. She hasn’t come to see her, even though she’s sure she probably knows Annabeth is no longer a Hunter. And Annabeth knows she has a better relationship with her mother than many demigods. She is suddenly brought back, back, back, to a boy with blue eyes she thought she had loved, and she realizes that not all that much has changed after all.

The mood is much more depressing now, with an awkward silence permeating the group as the girl, so much like Luke, sticks her nose back in her book. Annabeth is immensely grateful when someone comes to tell her she has a visitor, until she sees who that villager is.

When she gets to the Big House, Thalia has an arrow aimed at her chest.

“Are you going to shoot me?”

“I’d like to.”

“You’d do what Lady Artemis didn’t?” Thalia is almost snarling at her. “Thalia –”

“You didn’t even say goodbye!” She looses her arrow into a tree and Annabeth flinches.

“I had to leave, Thalia, I…”

“You could have told me first.” Thalia’s voice is small. “I would have understood.”

“I’m sorry. I was so ashamed, Thalia. I didn’t want anyone to know.”

“I’m not anyone.”

She nods. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” It seems like all Annabeth ever does anymore is apologize. It seems like all Annabeth ever does anymore is do things that require apologies.

They are quiet, unsure of what to say to each other. Finally Annabeth asks what she’s been wondering for years. “Aren’t you tired, Thalia? It’s been so long. How are you not exhausted?”

Thalia shrugs. “I have great patience. Comes with being a tree, I guess.” Annabeth isn’t sure if she’s joking or not. “I guess some people are just… meant to do things.”

“But I wanted this. I chose this. How is it you can stomach it so much better? So much longer?”

“Different strokes for different folks, Annabeth. Forever is a long time. Your ability to stomach forever just ran out before mine did. It doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Some people can hold their breath longer than others can; it doesn’t mean they deserve to swim any less.”

Annabeth doesn’t have anything to say to this.

“There’s nothing wrong with falling in love, Annabeth.”

“You told me you wouldn’t be here if things hadn’t gone the way they did with Luke. Is that really true? Or did you just tell me that to make me feel better?”

“Yes and no.”

“How can it be both?”

“It is true. But I left something out to make you feel better.”

“Which was?”

Thalia doesn’t answer immediately.

“That I am eternally grateful that this is how everything worked out.”

*

Thalia stays for a few hours and they talk, the way they haven’t in years, not since the wedge between them had grown, years and years of awkward silences and the urge to talk to her, to tell her, _it’s Percy, it’s always Percy, I kissed him and I love him and I’m so lost I don’t know what to do._ It breaks down those walls and Annabeth finds herself laughing again, telling Thalia so many things, everything and anything and nothing at all. She remembers, now, what it’s like, to be happy and free, and she is so drunk off this feeling that she can almost forget that her best friend is immortal and she’s in love with a god, that she’s on a train inevitably rushing towards her death, going faster and faster, waving at Percy and Thalia on the platform behind her, watching them get smaller and smaller as she gets older and older.

“What’s with the sad face all of a sudden?”

She can tell Thalia, she knows. She also should tell Thalia, especially after everything that just happened.

“It’s just… what am I going to do now? I graduated high school almost 300 years ago. The only work experience I have is redesigning Olympus, and how do you even put that on a resume? I have no place to go, nothing to do, and I’m on a fast track to death while you and Percy are both still immortal. It’s going to look like a 60 year old in love with a 16 year old. Like the ultimate cougar. Also illegal.”

Thalia is quiet. “Yeah. That sucks.”

“Is that all?”

“What? I can’t know all the answers.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?”

Thalia shrugs. “Talk to Chiron. He always seems to have answers.”

*

“So what do I do?”

Chiron has listened to her for about 45 minutes straight, telling him absolutely everything, including the times they had sex, which she describes by lowering her eyes awkwardly and saying, “Well you know…” She isn’t embarrassed by sex, despite being in a group made up exclusively of virgins, but talking to Chiron is like talking to your father, and Annabeth has already had the sex talk, and one was more than enough. She is extra awkward about what happened in Percy’s cabin, which is definitely 100% against the rules, but she doesn’t want to leave anything out. When she finally finishes Chiron just stands there for a few minutes before saying anything.

“Well Annabeth. That’s quite the life.” She wants to huff at how unhelpful this is.

“Yeah, no kidding.”

“What is it you want to do?” He asks quietly, and with a start she realizes she hasn’t even really thought about it. She had been so focused on her dismal situation that she hadn’t even really thought about what direction she wanted her situation to go.

“I don’t… I don’t really know. I guess I just… I want things to calm down. I want things to go back to normal but like, times a hundred.”

“The only problem with that is, what’s normal? No one is truly normal, children of the gods especially. Your life will never return to normal, Annabeth, because it never was.”

“I just want things to be like they would have been, if me and Percy had lived out our lives the way we should have.”

“You have no way of knowing how that life would have turned out. You don’t even know that’s what you should have done. Regardless, this is what happened. Dwelling on the past will not accomplish anything in your future. There are many paths we can take, and even if they all lead to the same place, there’s no telling what you might encounter on that path and how it might change the way you see your final destination.”

“All roads lead to Rome.”

“Yes. But how you get to Rome depends on you. Fate is a funny thing, Annabeth. Even if you can’t change the end result, you can change the way you get there. And all you can do is accept the road you’re on and trust you’re going to arrive there anyway.”

“But what happens if the road is really long and you just keep getting older and older while Rome stays the same?”

“Maybe we should stop speaking in metaphors.”

“What do I do when I’m old and gray and I need one of those chair lifts to get me up the stairs and Percy is still Percy?”

“All roads lead to Rome.”

“I thought we were done with the road talk.”

“You know Percy better than I do, better than anyone does. Have you ever known him to give up on anything?”

“But –”

“Percy stopped wanting to be a god ages ago. He stayed for you. I don’t need to ask if you know the story of Orpheus, I trust.”

“Of course.”

Chiron reaches out and pulls her gray streaked hair out from behind her hair. “Percy held up the world for you, Annabeth. What makes you think he won’t rearrange the universe?”

Annabeth smiles and hugs Chiron, feeling much better. So much better, in fact, that when she overhears Chiron say to one of the older campers who had just come in, “Please tell the cleaning harpies to do an extra scrub of the Poseidon cabin. Maybe just replace the sheets entirely,” she isn’t even really embarrassed.

**X.**

Annabeth is teaching archery to a young girl from the Hephaestus cabin when Percy comes to visit.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” She can tell it’s him by his voice and the gentle hand on her waist. “Hang on. Mia, if you don’t aim higher you’re going to shoot yourself in the foot.”

“I see you’re getting on well.”

“I’m developing a small army to defend my honour.”

“Really?”

“No. But when everyone found out what a good fighter I was I noticed a severe drop in whispering.”

“So everyone is afraid of you now, is what you mean. Great! It’s just like the old days.”

She ignores the last part. “Except the Aphrodite cabin. They love me. And they want to meet you.”

“Do they?”

“Don’t even think about it.”

“I’m glad things are getting better.”

“I wouldn’t say better.”

“Can I talk to you? Alone?”

“Sure. But, um, we’re not allowed in the Poseidon cabin anymore.”

Percy blushes.

They go to the Big House. When they sit down Percy pulls her towards him and kisses her, but she pulls away, laughing.

“Cool it. The cleaning harpies are not happy with us.”

Percy shudders.

“So what are you doing here?”

“I told you I’d come visit.”

“Is that it?”

Percy looks confused and the tiniest bit offended. “Were you expecting something else?”

“No. Just something Chiron said to me.” Percy doesn’t ask, unsure if he wants to know.

“Well, actually, there was something I wanted to talk to you about. I’ve thought up a few ideas to get rid of my immortality.”

“You’re not going to ask if I want to be immortal again?”

Percy looks confused. “No. Why would I? You don’t want to be immortal. Right?”

She leans forward and kisses him. “Right. Okay, let me hear these inevitably awful ideas.”

“Okay. First idea is a go seriously piss off Zeus, like, tell him his mother is as fat as the earth –”

“Gaia. That’s Gaia. Also not Zeus’ mother.”

“Exactly, if his mother was Gaia I would just be stating facts, but telling him his mother was as fat as his grandmother will probably piss him off. And then in his rage he punishes me by taking away my immortality.”

“Or, you know, by blasting you into pieces, reassembling you and blasting you again.”

“Okay, so what if I just do really annoying things and wear him down?”

“That would take you years, Percy. Centuries.”

“Gods, you’re a buzzkill.”

“Are those your only ideas?”

“I don’t see you coming up with any, smarty pants!”

She leans against him. “No. You’re right.”

*

“Why don’t you just ask?”

“What?”

Despite her initial misgivings, Annabeth finds that the Aphrodite cabin is actually one of the nicest places to be. It always smells nice and once they had gotten over Annabeth’s tragic love story they were actually quite fun to be around. Even the Plato girl (Tasia) was nice once you got past the angry, bitter exterior.

“Just ask them to take it back.”

“You can’t just ask the gods to do you favours every time you want something.”

“Why not? You saved them in that huge war thing, right? They kinda owe you.”

“No, they don’t. This was what they owed us. This was our reward. He was made a god and I got to redesign Olympus.”

“Your reward kind of sucks compared to his,” Aaron says.

“Yeah, he gets an eternity of doing cool stuff and you got a job. And you weren’t even paid. They gave you slave labour and passed it off as a reward.”

“It doesn’t matter, that was centuries ago. And you can’t just ask the gods for things!”

“What else are you going to do? You’re kind of on a time limit.”

Annabeth slaps Aaron’s hands away from her hair (“have you ever considered highlights? You’d look amazing”) and groans. “How about you go up to the gods and ask them to take away the gift they so graciously gave you and I’ll stay here and be a teenager again.”

“You sound like my grandmother.”

“I’m old enough to be your grandmother’s grandmother’s grandmother. Or something.”

“You’re about as grumpy as her, too.”

Annabeth sighs, despair filling her heart. “It’s hopeless. I’m fucked.” She imagines walking up to Zeus and politely asking him to turn Percy mortal again.

“That’d go well,” she mumbles.

*

She asks Thalia.

“You’ll just have to ask.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?”

“What other choice do you really have? Think about it.”

“I can start another rebellion and save them again. Put Kronos back together and stage an uprising.”

“Best of luck, dude.” Thalia takes another bite of her hot dog. “Gods, I’ve missed hot dogs.”

“Do you… does Lady Artemis know where you are?”

Thalia nods. “That’s good, at least, right? She still lets me see you. Not like she’s trying to cut you off.”

“I guess.” It is cold comfort.

*

Finally she talks to Percy.

“Well, I mean… what other option do we have?” They are on the couch, turned around so Annabeth can lie on his chest. “It’s either that or…” He doesn’t have to finish. They both know what the ending to that sentence is, and neither of them are prepared to let that happen.

“I’ll talk.”

“Why?”

“Because if Zeus zaps me I can survive.”

“Good point.”

*

When they get to the Empire State Building Annabeth falters at the door, doubting everything. “This is a bad idea. It’s going to end so badly. Let’s just go, Percy. There has to be another way.” But he’s already in the elevator, holding the door open and looking at her expectantly. She follows after him begrudgingly. He takes her hand in the elevator and she tries not to throw up. He kisses her hair lightly and whispers gently, “You know there isn’t, Annabeth. This is the only way. Why are you so nervous? Other than the obvious reasons.”

“I’m ashamed, Percy. I don’t want to face Lady Artemis again.”

“Look, you’re not the first person to break your vows. Plus – you literally made out with me ten minutes before you left to join the Hunters. She probably saw it coming.”

“I made a vow.”

“They’re gods, Annabeth. Breaking vows is pretty much their thing. You’ll fit right in.”

She smiles slightly and he leans in to kiss her. They’re still kissing when the elevator chimes to let them know they’re at floor 600.

The gods are all on their thrones when they arrive, and if she wasn’t so busy determinedly avoiding looking at Artemis, she would have stopped to admire her work.

“Jackson. What do you want now?” Zeus sounds incredibly bored.                                        

“I have a question I need to ask. A – a favour.”

“You’re out of favours,” Zeus says lazily, but it’s Athena who chimes in to ask, “What is this favour?” Annabeth’s heart drops at the sight of her mother. She will not go down without a fight.

“It’s about me and your daughter.”

Athena sits back with her lips pursed. “My least favourite subject.”

“Mom. Please.”

Percy coughs awkwardly, and then continues. “Almost 300 years ago we both made decisions that were horribly wrong. We were… young and stupid and high off our victory over Kronos and saving Olympus. I’m sure you remember. We saved you all from certain disaster.”

“Carry on, Jackson.”

“Right. So we made shit decisions. We were 16. And they were wrong decisions.”

“What is your point?” This is Athena who says this. Her eyes, so much like Annabeth’s, are flashing in anger. Annabeth has a feeling her mother knows exactly what is happening and is not happy about it.

“Annabeth and I… I love her.” Annabeth still blushes when she hears this. It’s not something she’s used to, and she wonders if she ever will be. “And I think… from what I understand she feels the same about me.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Ares says, and Percy, never a fan of the war god, bristles. But he keeps his calm, smiling in a markedly forced way.

“Me neither. But she does, for some reason. Even after all these years.”

Aphrodite bursts into tears while her mother’s lip curls up.

“The point!” Zeus, clearly not in very good humour, yells. The room shakes.

Percy stands his ground. “I love Annabeth, and she loves me, and we want to be together, like we should have been long ago. We fucked this up an insane amount and I want to make it right. I want to fix it. But I’m immortal and she’s… not.”

“I thought she was a member of Artemis’ little gang of bra burners,” Aphrodite says, in a tone that makes Annabeth think she’s probably fought with Artemis many times before over this.

“She was. She, uh –”

“I broke my vows.” She will not let Percy take this bullet for her. She had already confessed to Artemis, the only one she gave a shit about disappointing. The rest of the gods meant nothing. Not even her mother, who never approved of her and Percy in the first place, and let her hatred blind her to the fact that he was what made Annabeth happy. Or maybe she wasn’t blind to it. Maybe she just ignored it, not as important as her distaste and millennia old grudges. “Me and Percy…” she realizes she doesn’t have to go into detail, so she doesn’t, just trails off with “yeah,” the way so many people in her school would end presentations, years and years and years ago. Aphrodite clutches a hand to her chest while Athena lets out a snarl of disgust and shifts in her seat. Annabeth steps in front of Percy, afraid she’s going to end up on an episode of Jerry Springer IX. _My mother vaporized my boyfriend,_ it would probably be called.

“It’s fine,” Percy whispers, gently pushing her out of the way.

Zeus huffs angrily. “I am so tired of mortals,” he says, and Percy, so desperate to get him into a good mood, doesn’t even bother to point out that he no longer falls into that category.

“What I’m getting at is that I want to spend the rest of my length with Annabeth. But I’m a god. The rest of my life is basically… a really long time.”

“You want me to make her a goddess?”

Percy opens his mouth to speak, but she beats him to it. “No. I don’t want that. I don’t want to be immortal anymore. I’m tired. I’ve been tired for nearly 300 years. I want to live my life and then die, as morbid as that is. I want to be normal again. Thank you for the offer, Lord Zeus. But I can’t accept.”

“Don’t thank me for anything. I wasn’t going to do it. What is it you want then, Jackson?”

“I was wondering if you could… de-god me. Make me mortal again. Like Hercules.”

“Excuse me?”

“He means the Disney version.” This is Hermes. “You remember. You were played by Rip Torn.”

Zeus smiles. “Ah, yes. I liked that movie.”

“I _hated_ that movie,” Hera snarls.

“I wasn’t even in that movie,” Poseidon grumbles. “Zeus and Hades get all the focus and the only sight of me is at the end holding a fish. Pah.”

“I think we’re getting off the topic,” Athena says.

“Yes, let’s get off the topic of Hercules,” Hera says.

 _This is a disaster,_ Annabeth thinks.

“So you want me to retract the gift I was kind enough to give you because you fell in _love._ ”

“Um. Yes. Please.”

“This is ridiculous!” This is Ares, shouting as usual.

“I have to agree. The generosity of the gods only extends so far. You are out of favours, Percy Jackson.”

“Now, now, let’s not be hasty.” Annabeth breathes again when Poseidon speaks up.

Athena glares. “This is not _hasty._ Percy Jackson was given a gift that no mortal has been given in over a thousand years. If he regrets it, it is his own fault, and his own burden to deal with. This is not a wish granting factory.”

“Come now, Athena, let’s not pretend that this has to do with anything except your hatred for my son and his relationship with your daughter.”

Athena starts to glow threateningly. “How dare you –”

“Enough!” Zeus yells. “You’re giving me a headache.”

“If I may.” Dionysius is reclining in his throne, a glass of wine in his hand. Annabeth can only imagine how ecstatic he must have been when his punishment ended.

“What?” Athena snaps.

“Johnson –”

“Jackson –”

“– hasn’t even been a god for 300 years yet. He only learned last week how to make himself larger.”

Percy blushes. “It wasn’t last week,” she hears him mumble.

“What I’m getting at is that eventually Pablo –”

“Percy –”

“– will begin to understand how being a god works. And while he will not be powerful enough to cause any real trouble – probably – he can certainly prove to be a huge pain in the ass.”

“That was my idea!” Percy whispers to her.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Zeus asks.

“Well.” Dionysius takes another sip of wine. “It will be your ass.”

Zeus stops to think about an eternity of Percy Jackson trying to make his life miserable and eventually says, “Fine. I will put it to a vote.”

“Well I vote very strongly against it,” Athena is the first to say.

“The strength of your vote has so bearing, Athena,” Poseidon says drily. “I vote in favour. I will miss you as my lieutenant, Percy, but I want you to be happy.”

“It’s a yes from me.” This is Aphrodite, who has been sobbing this entire time. “This is the most beautiful love story I’ve ever seen.”

Hera sniffs disapprovingly. “No. This is a ridiculous farce.” This doesn’t surprise Annabeth. Hera had never liked them. She’s not really sure Hera had ever liked anything.

“I’m a no too. If Jackson becomes mortal again I can’t blast him to bits anymore. Well, I could. But only once.”

“Might as well. It would be hypocritical of me to try to stop Jacobson, after all.”

“Thanks Mr. D.”

“Don’t take this as any personal sign of affection, Peter.”

Hermes, with a long look at Percy, also agrees, and Annabeth remembers Luke and Hermes’ sad eyes when talking about his son. Apollo also supports the idea, saying, “As long as I don’t have to play chauffeur.” But the wink he shoots her lets her know this isn’t the only reason, and she is eternally thankful for constantly holding back severe criticisms about his haikus whenever she saw him. Hephaestus and Demeter both disagree, taking the same stance as Hera, that as gods they were above all this ridiculous back and forth and had better things to do. Zeus, with a glance over at his wife, votes in favour, no doubt remembering what Dionysius had said.

After tallying the votes Annabeth realizes, in extreme horror, that Artemis is the only one who hasn’t spoken. “Shit,” she hears Percy mutter, and she agrees. If Artemis votes no, it’s a tie, and a tie is not a win.

Artemis is silent for a long time and Annabeth prepares herself for the worst. There is no way Artemis will be on their side, not after what Annabeth did, not after Annabeth betrayed her, even after being given two chances to turn away.

“Annabeth.” She finally speaks. “I gave you something I have never before given a girl in my company – a second chance. You went against your vows once before and I forgave you when you promised it would not happen again.”

Annabeth wants nothing more than to sink into the ground.

“Percy Jackson. I told you the universe will not rearrange itself to protect your heart. And yet you expect me to?”

 _It’s over,_ Annabeth thinks. Percy takes her hand and squeezes and she knows he understands the same thing.

“But sometimes we live too long, I think. We forget. We are gods, but we have made worse mistakes than all of human history combined. You mentioned something to me, Jackson. A name I have not heard in thousands of years. A man in the stars. We are the gods, and what are gods for if not for granting wishes? For listening to prayers? Sometimes we forget.”

Annabeth doesn’t realize she had stopped breathing until her screaming lungs force her to start again. Percy’s hand is sweaty and he is holding hers so tightly it has gone numb. She doesn’t know what is happening and she is too scared to move.

“So yes, Percy Jackson. I will grant your wish. As a son of my brother’s once said, love is all you need. And even if I do not believe so, who am I to get in the way?”

*

Annabeth doesn’t know what de-goding someone entails. She doesn’t even know how god-ing someone works. She had never thought to ask.

She is anxiously pacing back and forth – what if it hurts? – when Artemis suddenly clears her throat. Annabeth looks around, hurriedly bows, and then refuses to meet the goddess’ eyes.

“Hello, Annabeth.”

“Lady Artemis.”

Artemis gestures at a bench and Annabeth sits down, trying to make herself as small as possible and picking at her nails.

“I can’t say I’m happy about this, Annabeth.”

She lowers her head in shame.

“I have done much worse to girls who have done much less than you.”

Annabeth still doesn’t speak.

“But at the same time, I can’t say I was surprised. You remember, I’m sure, how calm I was.” Annabeth nods. As if she could ever forget. “I am not normally that calm. But I think I expected it.”

This is worse, much worse. Artemis had always expected her to fail. No one expected her to be loyal enough. And they were right.

“Do not misunderstand me, Annabeth. As a Hunter, you were very good. I could see you taking over Thalia’s place, were something ever to happen to her. I hated letting you go. Truly I did.

“You are, no doubt, thinking that this means I have always doubted your loyalty. But you’re wrong, Annabeth. I had the utmost faith in your loyalty. That is why we are here now, 300 years later, instead of that first day when you retook your pledge. That loyalty is what drew me to you, that even after that initial incident you would come to me so quickly to confess and apologize. Loyalty does not mean never slipping up, Annabeth, it means returning even when you have done so. And I know that you would keep coming back to me, Annabeth, you would keep apologizing and pledging yourself and serving me to the best of your ability. I have had girls who have never so much as looked as a man who did not show me the loyalty and dedication that you have. And I would have forgiven you again, Annabeth. Whether that is a weakness or a strength in me I am unsure, but I would have. And I wanted to.

“But I did not want to watch you die. I do not understand what you have with Percy. In theory, maybe, but only in theory. Your loyalty would have kept you coming back time after time and each time it would have killed you a little more. You were an amazing Hunter, Annabeth. Especially for someone who was never meant to be.”

Annabeth suddenly realizes she is crying. “I am sorry, Lady Artemis. Truly.”

“So am I, Annabeth.” Artemis stands and Annabeth goes to do the same, but Artemis places her hands on Annabeth’s shoulders and gently pushes her back down.

“Be happy, Annabeth. I could have turned you into a bear.” Annabeth doesn’t know if she’s being serious or not, and she supposes she’ll never know, because Artemis is walking away and Annabeth knows this is the last she will ever see of her.

Annabeth is still sitting when her mother comes up to her. She can’t say she’s happy to see her.

“It’s like attack of the 50 foot virgin goddesses.” Her mother doesn’t smile, of course. Annabeth doesn’t think she’s ever seen her mother so angry.

“I am not happy, Annabeth.”

“Take a number.”

“You threw everything away for that boy.”

Annabeth is too tired to argue. “Guess I did.”

Athena doesn’t sit. “Why? This life was so much better for you, Annabeth.”

“This life was making me miserable, mother.”

Athena either doesn’t hear or pretends that she doesn’t. “You threw life as a prestigious Hunter of Artemis away in exchange for a tryst in the woods.”

“It was a hardly a tryst, mother. It’s been three centuries. You should be proud we made it this far. I love him, still. Doesn’t that tell you something?”

Athena scoffs. “What do you know of love?”

“Why do parents never take their children seriously when they say that? I’m 300 years old, for fuck’s sake.”

“You don’t need to swear.”

“But I do! Because you don’t understand, mother, or you just don’t care. This is what is supposed to happen. This is the life I should have chosen, and this is the life I want. Percy makes me happy. I want to be with him. Why isn’t that enough for you? Why are you so determined to hate him?”

“I am your mother –”

“Lady Artemis was more of a mother than you ever were,” Annabeth snaps. “She cared more about my happiness than you ever have.”

“Annabeth –” Her mother’s voice is sharp but Annabeth ignores her, stalking away and refusing to wipe her tears until she is certain her mother cannot see. Her eyes are so blurry that she walks straight into Percy.

“Oomph – Annabeth! Hey, what’s wrong?”

“My mother.”

“You don’t mean to imply your mother disapproves of our relationship, do you? I’m shocked!”

She can’t help but smile. “So is it… is it done?”

“Do you mean am I once again slowly but surely making my way towards what will probably be a pitiful death involving shitting my bed? If so, yes. It’s done.”

“Everyone shits themselves when they die.”

“Still smarter than me, I see.”

“Always will be.” She smiles and touches his chest. “Did it… did it hurt?”

“Uh.” Percy scratches his head. “Not really? I mean… it kind of felt like they were sucking the immortality out of me? It’s kind of hard to explain. It’s weird.”

“So you’re mortal again.”

“Yep. It might be hard to tell since I’m still as hot as the gods.”

“Still as big headed, more like.”

He kisses her finally, holding her close to him, and Annabeth can’t help but think the most morbid thought she’s probably ever had.

_I can’t wait to die with you._

**XI.**

Annabeth is in the Athena Cabin reading when suddenly her siblings all fall silent. She is grateful for the calm until one of her brothers says in a hushed voice, “Mom?” Annabeth looks up in annoyance.

Athena is standing on the doorway, looking impressive, as always. She smiles. “Hello, Andrew. Brush your hair.” Annabeth almost lets out a bark of laughter at this hilarious display of forced motherly love, but she manages to choke it down. Her siblings crowd around their mother, and she pities them, although she knows that once upon a time she did the same. But her mother’s anger had turned Annabeth hard and wary of her tricks. She doesn’t expect her mother to approve of Percy, but her happiness should be more important. Finding out it wasn’t made Annabeth resentful and bitter.

She can hear her mother and Mina discussing the girl’s plan to take her LSATs, Athena passing along wisdom – “they were my idea you know.” Annabeth can feel her mother’s eyes on her the entire time.

“Annabeth?” She calls before another one of her children can fight for her attention. “May I speak with you?” Annabeth stands up reluctantly and follows her mother out, ignoring the look of jealousy on the faces of her siblings. Athena leads her to the dock.

“I am sorry,” she says, and Annabeth stares.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, you heard what I said. You were right, Annabeth. I let a feud come before your happiness, and I am truly sorry for that.” There’s that word again. Annabeth is stunned.

“So you’re apologizing? You’re admitting you’re wrong?”

“I know, I don’t usually do that. At least you come by it naturally.” Annabeth smiles the tiniest bit. “I am proud of you, Annabeth. I am proud of all my children.”

“You should show us more.” It comes out before she can stop it, before she even realizes she’s saying it.

“Excuse me?” Athena’s eyes are flashing.

“I just mean… you saw how they acted when you showed up, there’s probably a lynch mob back there waiting for me because I got alone time with Mom. And there’s a girl in the Aphrodite Cabin who is just… she’s just so angry with her mother. This is how the whole thing with Luke started, because he felt ignored. It just feels like we’re repeating history.”

Athena’s lips are pursed but she has a look on her face, one that shows that she recognizes that this is a good idea, even if she doesn’t want to admit it. “Not even I would dare tell the gods how to parent.”

“I know. It’s just… maybe bring it up over the water cooler, or something.”

“There is no water cooler on Olympus.”

“Damn. I knew I forgot something.”

Athena smiles and places a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “And… I suppose I could try to give Percy Jackson a chance.”

“Is that why we’re by the water?”

“Yes. I want that old fish monger to hear me.”

This time Annabeth doesn’t try to stop her laughter. “Thanks, mom.” She doesn’t apologize for her comment about Artemis, because it was true, and you can’t lie to the goddess of wisdom. But her mother places a hand on her cheek and she knows she is forgiven.

*

Her mother doesn’t usually apologize, but when she does, boy does she apologize. Annabeth is standing on the porch of the Big House reading a letter Chiron had given her.

“Chiron. Why does this letter say I have a job?”

Percy’s head snaps up. “Where?”

“Administrative Assistant at the biggest architectural firm in the city. Apparently the previous one has met with some difficulty with her memory and they heard from a reliable source that despite my age I have a very promising future ahead of me. There’s a note from my mother at the bottom.” Annabeth lowers the letter in exasperation. “I can’t believe she erased someone’s memory to get me a job.”

“Could have been worse, she could have turned her into an owl. What does the note say?”

“‘The owner owes me a favour. Good luck.’”

Percy shudders. “Wouldn’t want to owe Athena a favour.”

“Well, Annabeth, looks like you’re on your way.”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t seem too happy.”

“I just… I never wanted to succeed because I have connections. I wanted to do it myself.”

Percy rolls his eyes. “Oh, shut up. You’re 300 years old, and you don’t even technically have a high school diploma, since I’m pretty sure 280 year old ones don’t count. Put your pride away, Annabeth.”

“All roads lead to Rome.”

“She’s not working in Rome, she’s working in Manhattan.”

Annabeth rolls her eyes.

“What I mean is it’s up to you to pick the proper path. Your mother got you to the crossroads. You have to get yourself to Rome.”

“Are we moving to Rome then?”

Annabeth laughs. Percy hugs her tightly, lifting her slightly off the ground.

“So what are you going to do?”

“Live off of my girlfriend’s success like any respectable 24th Century guy.”

“Like hell.”

“No, I was actually thinking about this. I could like, go around and miraculously fix animals in like, zoos and stuff, water parks, you know. I’ll be known as a master and everyone from all over the world will fight to get the fish whisperer to figure out why Shamu won’t eat. And then, depending on the conditions, I can help them escape.”

“The fish whisperer.”

“It’s a work in progress.”

“If that fails you can always be a plumber. You can just yell at the water to behave.”

Percy grins at her. “We’re going to be okay.” Then he kisses her, and keeps kissing her until Chiron clears his throat.

“You are, of course, both welcome to stay here until you find a more permanent place. Although there will be no more of… _that._ ”

They both blush deeply. “Thank you, Chiron.”

*

“We still don’t have anywhere to live.”

“We still have Camp Half Blood.”

“We can’t make out at Camp Half Blood.”

She laughs. “Is that the only reason you want a place so badly?”

“No. It’s not the only reason.” He pushes her behind the Big House and presses her against the wall, kissing her deeply, his hands snaking up beneath her shirt. His hand is just grazing her breast when they hear a shout.

“Percy Jackson! Annabeth Chase! Do I have to assign you two a chaperone?”

Percy laughs and grabs her hand, dragging her to the lake. “Where are we going?”

“Trust me.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

“ _Trust_ me.”

So she does, up until Percy wades into the water.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s fine, come here.”

“Says the one who can’t get wet.”

“You’ll be fine, I promise.”

With a huff of exasperation Annabeth follows, knowing she will no doubt regret this. When she gets into the water Percy smiles, gives her a peck on the lips, and then drags her under.

“Percy!” She screeches, until she realizes she _can_ screech. She opens her eyes and sees him, leaning against a huge bubble, grinning widely. She can feel the smugness radiating off of him and she desperately wishes she wasn’t so turned on so she could be properly annoyed.

“I am not having sex with you in a giant bubble under the sea.”

“This is a lake.”

She glares and he laughs. Desperate to get that look off of his face, she drags him forward, pulling him to her lips, collapsing against the edge of the bubble. She weaves her fingers into his hair, on top of the world. She’s finally reached Rome, so to speak, even if it took almost 300 years, and she isn’t looking back.

“Stop thinking,” he mutters, so she does.

**Author's Note:**

> I've had the idea for this story bouncing around in my head, and this gave me the motivation to sit down and actually write it. I was worried I wasn't going to be able to finish, but somehow I made it.
> 
> There is some gorgeous art that goes along with this story [here, thanks to my artist!](http://carolsdrawing.tumblr.com/tagged/all-roads-lead-to-rome%0A)


End file.
